ONE 

OF THE 




SLATEFoo 
WASHBURN 




Book 1 

e. p y 2 

CiffiSKIGHT DEPOSm ' ^ 



ONE OF THE Y.D. 




o 



ONE OF THE 




YANKEE DIVISION 



By SLATER WASHBURN 

CORPORAL C BATTERY, lOlST 

FIELD ARTILLERY, TWENTY-SIXTH 

DIVISION, A.E.F. 



BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

1919 






COPYRIGHT, I919, BY SLATER WASHBURN 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



I. ^ '^^ 

/ 

MAV -8 1919' 



iCU5l5451 






TO 

The boys of C Battery, 101st Field 
Artillery, Twenty-sixth Division, who 
fought and died for the great cause, and 
who now lie biu'ied beneath the soil of 
France, far from home, yet near in spirit 
to those whose privilege it was to serve 
with them. 



PREFACE 

In writing this little book I have sought to portray the 
everyday life of a soldier who served in France, treating 
the subject from the point of view of an enlisted man, 
one of the many thousands who served in the ranks. 
It has been my purpose to describe the experiences of 
the boys in Battery C, 101st Field Artillery from 
April, 1917, to August, 1918, typical of the experi- 
ences of so many young men who answered the ^'call" 
and served their country in the World War, 

I am especially grateful to Miss Margaret Denholm 
for her cooperation and assistance in the preparation 

of the manuscript, 

SLATER WASHBURN 
Worcester 
March 1919 



CONTENTS 

I. BoxFORD TO France 1 

II. Training at Camp Coetquidan ... 17 

III. Moving to the Front 27 

IV. Our First Sector — Chemin des Dames . 43 
V. Join the Artillery and — Walk . . 69 

VI. In the Toul Sector 81 

VII. Our Loyal Friend the Cootie ... 97 

VIII. At the First Corps School — Gondre- 

COURT 106 

IX. Back to the Front 110 

X. Bound for Paris.? . . . . . . 124 

XI. ChAteau-Thierry AND the Second Marne 135 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

C Battery Machine-Gun Emplacement, St.- 
JuLiEN Front, Toul Sector, with Corporal 
Gordon E. Denton and Corporal Slater 
Washburn Frontispiece 

The Cooks 23 

Captain George A. Parker 40 

Brigadier-General John H. Sherburne . . 52 

Corporal William J. Sweeney 70 

Corporal Ralph I. Lindsey 84 

Sergeant Ernest O'Callaghan 152 

W. E. Bright, Jr., Instrument Sergeant . . 158 



ONE OF THE Y. D. 

CHAPTER I 
BOXFORD TO FRANCE 

There was a certain electric thrill in the air. 
Something out of the ordinary was about to 
break; even the "skipper" seemed a bit ex- 
cited; so when the orders came down to "pack 
up " we knew it would n't be long before we 
were on our way to France. 

Since April 9, 1917, the members of C Bat- 
tery, 101 F.A., 26th Division, had been on 
pins and needles waiting for those orders, and 
at last the day after Labor Day of the same 
year they had come. 

For weeks (for months it had seemed to us) 
we had been doing "squads east and west," 
guard duty, and the many things which make 
camp life the same the world over. We had 
simulated fire on our three-inch guns so many 
times that the mere sight of the flag-pole, 
which had afforded such a convenient aiming- 



% ONE OF THE Y. D. 

point, filled one with intense disgust. We had 
been inspected and inspected till we began to 
answer the customary questions in our sleep. 
In short, since the 25th of July when we were 
called out, we had been "playing soldier" 
according to the most approved methods, and 
we were heartily anxious to move, because we 
all knew that our next move would be across. 
And so, when the captain called all the "non- 
coms" into the first sergeant's tent and told 
us to "pack up and hush it up," we went to it 
with a vengeance. 

On Thursday, September 7, 1917, at exactly 
12 noon, every tent in the entire regiment was 
"struck," and with our packs on our backs and 
a bit of a jump in our hearts, we marched to 
the station, with the band playing "There's a 
long, long trail a-winding." It was short work 
to entrain, and with a final blast of the whistle 
we were off. Not a word of our departure had 
got out, and we slipped away quietly without 
any hand-clapping or cheers. Just business ! 

As the train made its roundabout way to- 
ward New York, the talk and laughter of the 



BOXFORD TO FRANCE 3 

boys ceased, and most of them took a long, 
last look at the familiar landmarks of Massa- 
chusetts, breathing a silent prayer for those 
loved ones whom they were leaving behind, in 
most cases without a word of good-bye. 

It was an all-night trip in the coaches to 
New York, and the majority of the boys were 
glad to snatch a few hours' sleep. No sooner 
had I got fairly comfortably settled, with my 
head resting on the feet of my opposite neigh- 
bor, than I was rudely awakened and told to 
"shake it up," as we had arrived. "Shake it 
up" I did, and found that we had indeed 
stopped, and at once we began to transfer our 
barrack bags and equipment to the small 
steamer which was to ferry us up the river. 
Dawn was just breaking as we wound our way 
to the dock where the transport lay, gray and 
grim in the early morning light with its guns 
ready for business. 

We lined up in the huge shed, received cards 
indicating the numbers of our "staterooms," 
and, taking a farewell look at real American 
ground, stepped aboard. 



4 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

On shipboard, at last ! It was a great feeling, 
and we all looked forward to a comfortable 
trip across, as our ship was the Adriatic, an 
English boat, made over into a transport. 

As we wound our way in single file, following 
closely in the footsteps of our guide, a stalwart 
English seaman, our minds naturally turned 
to a mental picture of our quarters. We were 
glad that we were to have staterooms and 
keenly anticipated the comforts of a lower 
berth. We must have penetrated far below the 
third deck, when a sergeant in front of me, 
quietly tapping our guide on the shoulder, re- 
marked, "Say, Jack, let's get our stuff into 
our staterooms first, before we begin this tour 
of the ship; it's very interesting, but this bar- 
rack bag is heavy." He had voiced our senti- 
ments to a nicety and we all eagerly awaited 
the reply, which was soon forthcoming to the 
effect that we were on our way to our quarters. 

Never having been on shipboard before, but 
having somewhere acquired the impression 
that staterooms, as a usual thing, were not 
below the fourth deck, I was surprised and 



BOXFORD TO FRANCE 5 

interested. Down, down, even farther down 
we went, until it reminded me of the time I 
scorned the elevator in the Washington Monu- 
ment, preferring to walk. At last we stopped, 
and with our sudden halt the truth burst upon 
us. Gone were the visions of comfortable state- 
rooms; our dream was rudely shattered. We 
were in the steerage. There could be no doubt 
of that. The narrow iron bunks, tier upon tier, 
proclaimed the fact to a certainty. One opti- 
mistic soul inquired of our guide if there was 
anything below us, and received the cheering 
news, "Nothing but several tons of high- 
explosive." That was a comfort, at any rate, 
to know that we were not actually at the 
bottom of the ship. 

We made ourselves comfortable, however, 
and after crawling over three other boys, I 
reached my "roll," and was ready for the trip. 

We hoped for immediate departure, but de- 
lay was caused by the fact that we had more 
cargo to take on. The following morning, 
bright and early, our tug came alongside, and 
soon we were moving slowly down the river. 



6 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

No man was allowed above decks — except, 
of course, the officers — and we eagerly sought 
a portion of a porthole, to get a farewell glimpse 
of "God's Country." 

As we passed the Statue of Liberty and real- 
ized that we were really on our way, a thrill 
shot up and down my back, and the next 
minute my eyes dimmed a bit as I realized 
that of all those boys (almost the first American 
soldiers to sail for France) who had so willingly 
offered themselves to their country, many 
would never again gaze upon that statue, so 
dear to the hearts of all Americans, which was 
swiftly fading away on the port side. 

After noon mess we were allowed on deck, 
the pilot having left us sometime since, and 
the ship was making rapid headway under its 
own power. The shore grew less distinct, fin- 
ally melted into the distance, and we were 
alone, as far as the eye could reach, headed up 
the coast for our first stop, Halifax. 

The journey to Halifax proved uneventful, 
and the morning of the following day we 
steamed into the harbor amidst the cheers of 



BOXFORD TO FRANCE 7 

the blue- jackets on the English cruisers which 
lined the channel. We spent the day at life- 
boat drills, impatient at the delay and anxious 
to be off again. The following afternoon found 
us again at sea, and after a day or two we set- 
tled into the regular routine of life on ship- 
board. 

On looking back, the trip really was most 
comfortable. We had our meals served in the 
third-class dining-room, which was also used 
for a smoking-room. There was plenty of deck- 
room for exercise, and good weather most of 
the way. The only formation of the day was 
set for nine o'clock every morning, and we 
spent that hour going through exercises on 
deck or playing games, in order to keep in fit 
condition. 

Our one real excitement of the trip occurred 
after we had been out about eight days. I hap- 
pened to be one of the corporals of the regi- 
mental guard, and had just posted my relief 
about midnight, when, suddenly, all lights on 
the ship went on. In two minutes they were 
turned off again, but inasmuch as we were in 



8 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

the danger zone, and a lighted ship could be 
seen for miles, you can imagine the sensations 
of the men on deck who saw this phenomenon 
occur. The oflBcer of the guard went over the 
ship carefully, but no soldier on post had seen 
any one near the switches. It was a mystery. 
But when the same thing happened on four 
successive nights, always in the dead of night, 
it was clear that there was "dirty" work afoot. 
And so it proved, because on the fifth night, 
the man was caught red-handed, having made 
the connection by two hidden wires and thus 
causing the circuit. Rumor had it that he was 
an Austrian, and after we reached England, 
he was reported as having received his well- 
merited reward, a blank wall and a firing squad. 
We landed at Liverpool after sixteen days 
on shipboard, and everybody was glad to be 
on "terra firma" again. We entrained in third- 
class coaches and pulled out of the Liverpool 
station at noon, bound for Southampton. It 
was a beautiful trip, the green fields and rolling 
hills forming a most welcome contrast to the 
monotonous expanse of ocean. Southampton, 



BOXFORD TO FRANCE 9 

where we spent the night, gave us our first real 
touch of war. The streets were dark, no lights 
showing because of air raids. We marched 
through the silent town with here and there a 
face visible at some window crack, wondering, 
no doubt, who we were, very few of the inhab- 
itants realizing until the following day that 
we were Americans. 

We spent the night in a rest camp some 
three miles outside of the town, and the fol- 
lowing afternoon we again boarded a ship, but 
this time a Channel steamer. It was a very 
small boat, and we had standing-room — that 
was all. A great target for a submarine. The 
men were crowded so closely together below 
decks that it was impossible even to sit down. 
When darkness settled, we crept out from 
the dock, and after picking up our escort of 
"chasers" zigzagged our way across to Havre, 
where we landed the following morning. I had 
managed to catch two hours' sleep, reposing 
on the deck beneath the smokestack, when, 
awakened by a sudden turning of the ship, I 
asked one of the boys, who was standing at the 



10 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

rail, whether anything interesting had hap- 
pened during the night. "No, nothing much," 
was the answer; "a torpedo just missed us by 
twenty-five yards." Realizing that there might 
be more of them, and anxious to be there to 
see the fun, I joined my friend at the rail. No 
more excitement, however, and we docked at 
Havre, shouldered our packs, and stepped 
ashore. At last we were in France. 

It was a wonderful feeling to see the enthu- 
siasm of the French when they realized that 
we were Americans. They were glad to see us, 
— there was no question about it, — and we 
were equally glad to see them. There, for the 
first time, we saw a large base hospital with 
a steady stream of ambulances busy, bringing 
in the wounded. We heard rumors of a "big 
drive," and the number of wounded coming in 
seemed to corroborate this. As those wounded 
were carried by, you could see our boys 
straighten up, for they saw for the first time 
what war meant and they were more anxious 
than ever to get into it, to get to the front and 
to fight, as those boys had fought who were 



BOXFORD TO FRANCE ii 

passing by on their way to the hospital, with 
a smile on their tired faces. 

The order came down to ''fall in" and off 
we went, packs on back, to another camp 
where we spent the day. I was assigned to 
an unloading detail, and so remained behind 
at the dock. While standing there waiting for 
orders, I saw my first "Boches." There they 
were, lots of them, German prisoners, working 
on the roads. It was a most welcome sight, and 
how they looked at us ! They would not believe 
we were Americans, but thought us English 
in disguise, as they put it. They could not 
imagine that America was in the war. It did 
not take them long, however, to accept this 
last report as a reality. After all the baggage 
had been unloaded, I rejoined my battery at 
the rest camp, where I found most of the boys, 
stretched out on the floor of the tents, snatch- 
ing a few hours' sleep. 

For the benefit of those who have not had a 
personal acquaintance with a rest camp, I will 
say that the expression "rest camp" does not, 
as its name implies, mean a camp for rest — 



n ONE OF THE Y. D. 

far from it. The title was no doubt chosen with 
a view to inspiring in the hearts of the un- 
knowing a hope of repose. We had no sooner 
arrived, however, and laid aside our packs 
temporarily, than orders came down to hurry 
"mess" and be ready to leave as soon as pos- 
sible. All of which was done, and late afternoon 
found us again on our way, this time bound 
for the station, where we entrained and started 
on a journey to an unknown destination. Here 
it was that we made our first acquaintance 
with the "French Pullmans," and their well- 
known signs, " Hommes 40, Chevaux 8." They 
consisted of rather small box-cars with wooden 
benches placed inconveniently within, so that 
one could neither lie on the floor nor sit in any 
but the most uncomfortable positions. 

Before leaving the station, some Australians, 
who had been back on a brief furlough and 
were returning to the front, came up to the 
cars and soon they were exchanging cigarettes 
and stories with our boys. They were fine 
examples of the highest type of soldier, fear- 
less, good-natured, and with a certain dash 



BOXFORD TO FRANCE 13 

which at once won the admiration and affec- 
tion of their American brothers. They told us 
bits of "front-line" news and wished us "good 
luck" as we pulled out. 

That night was one of the worst I ever spent 
in France. We had a car crowded to the full 
capacity, with scarcely room for the men to 
sit down, to say nothing of lying down. In 
fact, even to sit one had to be a contortionist 
of no mean ability. Finally, after much shifting 
of my position, I secured the least uncomfort- 
able arrangement, and with my head and back 
on a bench and my legs on the floor was about 
to seek "soothing slumber" when I discovered 
that our car had a square wheel which made 
a most disconcerting noise. I began count- 
ing each revolution, reached somewhere about 
the sixteen hundred mark, when I fell into a 
semi-comatose state from which I was several 
times awakened by the too close proximity of 
some of my neighbors' feet. Thus passed the 
night. 

Sunrise found us all awake and eagerly 
catching our first glimpse of "France from 



14 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

a box-car." We passed through much beauti- 
ful country — picturesque villages with their 
quaint houses, and large cities with their 
beautiful cathedrals. These, and especially the 
costumes of the people, were so interesting 
that the day passed quickly, and we were 
thinking once more of the night to come. We 
had decided that the benches must be taken 
up, piled in one corner, and the floor space 
utilized: which, after much difficulty, was 
accomplished. We stretched out, and were 
peacefully falling asleep when the train stopped, 
and we were ordered out. Out we jumped, and 
"fell in " with no idea of where we were or what 
was going to happen. After the usual delay 
the command "Rest" came down, and with- 
out even removing their packs the boys simply 
sank down on the ground, pillowed their heads 
on the soft side of a rail, and were "dead to 
the world," in less time than it takes to tell it. 
I never realized before how very comfortable 
a rail could be when used as a pillow, but it is 
all in the point of view. Soon we were again 
awakened, marched away from the tracks. 



BOXFORD TO FRANCE 15 

loaded into some trucks driven by French sol- 
diers, and after ten or fifteen minutes, unloaded 
and marched away into the night. Some cheer- 
ful soul made the statement that he had over- 
heard one of the officers say that we had only 
ten miles more to "hike" that night. Our 
optimistic friend, at precisely that moment, 
stubbed his toe and pitched headlong into a 
deep ditch, much to our delight. On and on we 
went, and as the distance increased so did the 
weight of our blanket rolls. Some one whis- 
pered in my ear, "Just think of all those good 
porters doing nothing down at the South Sta- 
tion." It was an awful thought. Soon we began 
to swear that the next step would be our last, 
and to curse inwardly the officers who marched 
steadily on, oblivious to the fact that they 
were carrying no equipment and we were. Sud- 
denly came the order "Halt," and we did so 
gladly, only to move forward the next minute. 
A building loomed out of the darkness; we 
were led in. Our barracks! Concrete, with a 
very damp floor; but without even taking the 
time to undo our rolls we sank down and at 



16 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

once were asleep. As I drifted slowly into luxu- 
rious slumber, never, in the softest of feather 
beds, have I been one half as delieiously com- 
fortable as I was on the damp concrete floor, 
with my mess-kit for a pillow. 



CHAPTER II 
TRAINING AT CAMP COETQUIDAN 

Camp Coetquidan, where we found ourselves, 
was a typical French camp. It had been used 
by Napoleon as a place for the mobilization of 
his Second Army and had many interesting 
traditions. Many of the streets were named for 
French oflBcers who had fallen in battle and 
the place was filled with French soldiers and 
German prisoners. We were the first Ameri- 
cans to set foot in that neighborhood and were 
at once the center of interest. Those who were 
fortunate enough to speak French made speedy 
friends with the French poilus, who did all in 
their power to make us feel at home. 

The surrounding country was beautiful. 
Long, rolling hills stretching far into the dis- 
tance with here and there the tiny spire of 
some church marking the center of a small 
town. There were two towns near the camp, 
both picturesque from a distance, but upon 
nearer acquaintance found to be very dirty. 



18 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

and the inhabitants exceedingly poor. But even 
from the poorest the hospitahty and good- 
cheer which were extended to our boys won 
their everlasting affection. 

The German prisoners, for the most part, 
had been confined here since the beginning of 
the war. They were comfortably quartered in 
wooden barracks and seemed well fed and 
contented with life. They would not, at first, 
believe us Americans, but considered us, as 
had those at Havre, English in disguise. 

Our quarters were in stone barracks. We 
slept on iron cots, and on the whole were very 
comfortable. In looking back at these luxuries 
when at the front, some one would remark, 
lying upon the floor of a leaky dug-out, "The 
Battle of Coetquidan was a tough one." We 
were well off, and we knew it. One day of rest, 
after our journey, and we started in upon our 
course of intensive training. Until the material 
(guns, caissons, and limbers) arrived, we spent 
most of the time taking long "hikes" into the 
surrounding country in order to toughen the 
men and get them into condition as rapidly as 



CAMP COETQUIDAN 19 

possible. The first Sunday in camp was a "red- 
letter" day in my life. After much "parlez- 
vous"-ing, I succeeded in getting a French 
corporal for an hour's instruction on a French 
"75." It was the first time I had seen the 
famous gun, and inasmuch as we knew that 
we were to use the French guns, I was particu- 
larly anxious to learn the differences between 
the "75" and our American three-inch which 
latter we had used in the States. It was won- 
derful to hear this old French soldier, who had 
been at the front for three years, explain in 
simple French the wonders of the gun that had 
saved France. Before I knew it, the afternoon 
had passed. 

Within a comparatively short time our guns 
came, and under French instruction we started 
our preliminary training. Our officers, as well 
as the men, had to learn the field artillery game 
as the French played it, from the very begin- 
ning. It was hard work for all concerned, and 
when night came we were all more than glad 
to seek a good meal in the small town of 
Saint-Malo, our bunks, and sleep. 



20 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

Five or six of us used to patronize a certain 
cafe. We were the first Americans whom they 
had ever seen and consequently we always had 
the best. We ordered huge omelets of from 
thirty-six to fifty-four eggs regularly, but it 
was not long before we tired of omelets, and 
so one night I suggested good old American 
scrambled eggs. The vote was unanimous, so I 
arose and sought the madame. It took me four 
successive evenings of explaining, in French, 
before we attained the desired result, but fin- 
ally we were successful, and from that night 
on, our cafe was famous as having "les oeufs 
americains." To my surprise, the French do 
not eat toast. It took me a long time to teach 
the good old lady how to make this delicacy, 
but we were again successful, and our suppers 
at this place were oases in the desert of long 
hours and hard work. 

Although the work was hard, it was inter- 
esting, and we made such rapid progress that 
after two weeks of simulated fire, the officers 
decided to take us on the range for actual 
firing. I will never forget the excitement of that 



CAMP COETQUIDAN 21 

early start for real fire. It was a cold, wet 
morning, and we were well on our way at 
dawn. The guns had been put into position 
the night before by the French, as we had no 
horses of our own as yet, so all was in readiness 
when we arrived. The first four gun sections 
took charge of their respective guns, cleaned 
them with great care, and received the final 
instructions from the battery commander. 
There was some delay caused by the fog which 
made observation diflScult, but as the sun 
broke through the cloud, the command "Load" 
was given, and we stood clear for the first shot. 
"Fire," and C Battery spoke for the first time 
in its official capacity. After the first shot, all 
nervousness vanished, and before noon the 
men were performing like veterans. 

For weeks we had been eagerly expecting 
our horses, and at last they arrived. Never in 
all my life have I seen such confusion. Of course 
those who were entitled to single mounts were 
anxious to get their pick before the best ones 
had been taken. The officers come first, and 
then the "Non-Coms" in order of rank. I shall 



22 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

never forget one sergeant, who was anxious 
for a horse with ''pep." He had been making 
the stable sergeant's Hfe miserable for the pre- 
vious two weeks. Finally, when his turn came 
we all lined up to watch him make his selection. 
It had been raining all the night before and 
the ground was covered with some three or 
four inches of nice, soft, slimy mud. After 
choosing a high-spirited animal, he led it out 
and sprang into the saddle, paused there a mo- 
ment, and after executing a complete somer- 
sault (one of the neatest I ever saw), measured 
his six feet in the mud. It took three of us to 
help him extricate himself from the clutches of 
mother earth. His only request was that he be 
given any horse at all, provided that it was a 
gentle beast, and preferably blind. Many were 
the boys who, a few short weeks before, had 
boasted of their equestrian powers, but now 
met with a similar Waterloo. 

Thanksgiving was drawing near and great 
was the interest among the men as to whether 
or not they would have real turkey. The sup- 
ply companies were working day and night. 







(/} •§ -^ 

S ^ ? 

8 ^^ 

H ^ ^"^ 

1^ 



CAMP COETQUIDAN 23 

Great truck-loads of provisions were coming 
in daily, and when, the day before Thanks- 
giving, our battery received four more turkeys 
than their allowance called for (thanks to our 
mess sergeant, who was an "old-timer" at 
that great army game "catch as catch can"), 
joy reigned supreme. The cooks were busy for 
twenty-four hours preparing the dinner. And 
so on the afternoon of Thanksgiving Day we 
trooped into the mess shack with our mess- 
kits "stripped for action," to find a feast 
awaiting us which was worthy of the highest 
traditions of good old New England. We had 
mashed potatoes, \yith real gravy, turkey and 
all you could eat of it, celery, peas — in short, 
everything that our minds had been picturing 
for the previous two weeks as essential to a 
Thanksgiving dinner. But when real apple, 
squash, and mince pies were brought on, fol- 
lowed by candy and cigars from S. S. Pierce's, 
Boston, imagine it! There was n't a man in 
that mess shack who would n't have cheerfully 
yielded up his life (after the dinner, of course) 
for those cooks. 



24 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

As time passed, the 102d and 103d Regi- 
ments of our brigade arrived from the States, 
and were immediately set to work. As the 
Americans moved in, the French began to 
move out, and it was not long before the camp 
was almost entirely American, save for the 
German prisoners. There was a certain division 
which was reported as having sailed before us, 
but when they arrived a good month after the 
Yankee boys, there was much good-natured 
joking at their expense. 

Training, at best, is very tiresome, and it 
was not long before we were thoroughly anx- 
ious to be on the move again, especially as 
we knew that the next move would be "the 
front." 

Christmas came with its many letters and 
packages from home. Much delicious fruit- 
cake and cigarettes, and last, but by no means 
least, a real Christmas dinner. The weather 
was cold, but no snow had fallen and our reg- 
ular routine of training continued unbroken, 
save by the rumors of a move which continued 
to float down to us from time to time. 



CAMP COETQUIDAN 25 

Early in January, we prepared for an inspec- 
tion by our brigade commander. General 
William L. Lassiter, a splendid soldier and very 
popular with the men. For days horses were 
groomed, material cleaned, barracks swept. 
We were given to understand that upon this 
inspection depended our fate: whether we 
would leave, or continue our training. We 
passed with flying colors, and soon the orders 
came down to turn in all surplus equipment 
and get ready for a quick move. Rumor had 
it that we were to join our infantry at Neuf 
Chateau where we were to train with them for 
a short time and then go up to the line. 

On Thursday, the 31st of January, 1918, the 
long-expected orders came. Everything had 
been in readiness for days, so it was a simple 
matter to pack up, and by night everything 
was prepared. That day we went through the 
gas chamber in order to test both our French 
and English masks, which we found in excel- 
lent condition. 

The next morning at exactly eleven-thirty, 
we " hitched in," made our blanket rolls secure 



26 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

on the carriages, and pulled out of park. We 
reached the entraining point at about two- 
thirty, but it was not until four that our bat- 
tery began to entrain. It took us something 
over two hours, and shortly after dark we 
pulled out of the station, bound for — no one 
knew where. 



CHAPTER III 
MOVING TO THE FRONT 
To entrain a battery is no small task. In the 
first place, an officer and several men are sent 
ahead of the battery and their duty is to mark 
each car with chalk indicating for what it is 
to be used. The horse-cars have an allotment 
of eight horses, and the cars in which the men 
travel, hold anywhere from thirty to forty, 
depending upon their size. Then there are the 
flatcars for the guns, limbers, and caissons, the 
two park wagons, fourgon wagon, forge and 
store wagons, ration-cart, water-wagon, and 
last, but most important of all, the "soup gun" 
(or movable kitchen). The greatest difficulty 
comes in loading the horses. To induce, by fair 
means or foul, a horse to enter one of those 
cars requires much patience and practice. 
There was one particular horse that caused no 
end of trouble. He simply would not go in. 
Finally the captain, doubtless disgusted with 
the efforts of the men, seized the bridle with 



28 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

a determined hand, but all to no avail. A horse 
is the one thing in the army that treats oflficers 
and men alike. And the captain did not impress 
this one in the slightest. He would not move. 
Then it was that a wise old sergeant suggested 
a method of attack. Two men, each holding 
the ends of a rope, standing on each side of 
the horse maneuvered the rope so that it sur- 
rounded the animal's quarters, then with a 
sudden pull, they deftly slid our troublesome 
friend into the car in a "sitting-down" posi- 
tion; humiliating, no doubt, for the horse, but 
a very effective method. 

I was not attached to any section and so 
traveled in the forage car with the stable ser- 
geant and one of the lieutenants. It was a good- 
sized box-car, filled with hay and grain. We 
rolled the bales of hay together making three 
bunks. It was one of the most comfortable 
nights I ever spent. We had rations for three 
days, and expected to enjoy our trip thor- 
oughly. The next morning found us passing 
through thickly settled towns and villages. 
The French people were most enthusiastic in 



MOVING TO THE FRONT 29 

their welcome wherever the train stopped. 
From all that we could gather we were travel- 
ing towards Neuf Chateau, which we knew to 
be a good three days' trip on the train. So, late 
on the afternoon of the second day we invited 
a few of our friends to join us in our "private 
car," and prepared ourselves for another com- 
fortable night's sleep. It must have been about 
midnight when the train stopped suddenly, 
and one of the officers passed the word to us to 
be ready to detrain in half an hour. We had 
all opened our blanket rolls, anticipating a 
long trip, and great was the confusion as we 
sought to re-make them in total darkness with 
the car lurching from side to side. Suddenly 
the train stopped short, and the captain sent 
for me informing me that I was to go ahead 
with three men and a French officer as "mark- 
ers" for the rest of the battery when they 
came along. In other words, we were to direct 
the battery, placing men at intervals along the 
route. At that moment the French officer came 
up, motioned to us to follow him, and we 
started hurrying along to keep up. I had visions 



30 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

of "hiking" three or four miles at this terriiBc 
pace, when we rounded the corner of the sta- 
tion, and there, standing in total darkness, 
was a real limousine. It was my first ride in a 
limousine since I had been in France, and al- 
though it was comparatively short, it was one 
of keen delight for all of us. The most interest- 
ing question was, "Where are we?" Nobody 
had the remotest idea. We went up a hill, into 
a town, and stopped near a large cathedral. 
Out we stepped and waited for directions. After 
a careful explanation from the French officer, 
I learned that we were to billet for the night in 
the cathedral. I posted one man at a short dis- 
tance from the cathedral where the battery 
was to "park" for the night, and a boy named 
Wogan and I remained at the cross-roads to 
show the men their billets when they arrived. 
It must have been about two o'clock in the 
morning, for I remember looking at my watch 
as we stood there. The stars were twinkling 
brightly overhead and a slight breeze just 
stirred the leaves of the trees. We exchanged 
a few words and lapsed into silence, appreqi- 



MOVING TO THE FRONT 31 

ating the beauty of the night. It seemed like a 
late September night in New England, and the 
quiet town suggested some peaceful little New 
England village. We must have remained silent 
for half an hour, when suddenly, as my eyes 
were gazing into the distance, I saw a ball of 
fire shoot into the sky, burst, and slowly de- 
scend. A star shell, followed almost immedi- 
ately by a dull, "boom boom." Then silence. 
Like a flash we turned to each other. "Rod, 
we're near the front," were my first words. It 
was the first intimation we had of it, and my 
heart gave a leap as I realized that it would 
not be long before our guns would be flashing 
from those not far distant hills. 

In another hour we began to hear the bat- 
tery as it pulled up the long hill. Soon it en- 
tered the town, went into park, and the horses 
were imhitched, watered, and fed. By the time 
the men reached the billets it was 5 a.m. and 
we all turned in for an hour's sleep. 

Reveille at six o'clock and we eagerly sought 
the "soup gun" for hot coffee and bread. Then 
it was that we found we were in the historic 



32 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

town of Soissons, which had been held by the 
Germans a httle over a year before. There was 
German writing on some of the buildings, most 
of it written as the Boehes were retreating in 
the late fall of 1916. The cathedral was most 
picturesque. It had been standing for several 
hundred years. One Frenchman told me it 
dated back to 1336. The upper part was badly 
damaged, I thought at the time, by bombs 
from hostile aircraft, but have since learned 
that most of the damage had been sustained 
in the Franco-Prussian War. 

Eight o'clock found us again on our way, 
headed in the direction of the front, and every 
man in the battery was in high spirits. 

We had barely reached the outskirts of 
Soissons when the Frenchmen along the way 
began pointing into the air in a great state of 
excitement. I glanced up, but all that was vis- 
ible to me was puffs of white smoke from the 
anti-aircraft guns silhouetted against the blue 
sky. One of the poilus standing near, replied 
to my question that it was an "avion Boche." 
I could see nothing, but finally with the aid of 



MOVING TO THE FRONT 33 

field-glasses made out a black spot, high in the 
heavens, and, as it turned and twisted, sud- 
denly catching a reflection of the sun on its 
wings, I made out the iron cross painted on 
the wings, denoting an enemy airplane. We 
later discovered that it was a common occur- 
rence for German planes to come over Soissons 
and that air raids at night had long since lost 
their novelty for the inhabitants. This was the 
only excitement of the trip, and we pursued 
our way along the road which was marked by 
the very heavy fighting of the previous year. 
Trenches lined both sides of the road, barbed 
wire was much in evidence, and here and there 
old discarded equipment could be seen, thrown 
aside by the Germans in their retreat. We 
passed through two small villages used as bil- 
lets for French troops who were back on a few 
days' relief from "the line." They cheered us 
as we went through, glad to see that America 
was so soon to take active part. 

At noon we reached a large wood, where our 
"horse-line" was to be established, and the 
men were glad to "turn in," although it was 



34 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

afternoon. The term "horse-line" or "eche- 
lon," as the French call it, means, as its name 
implies, the place, a few miles behind the actual 
front, where the horses are kept. It is really 
headquarters for the battery. Only those men 
actually needed for the "firing battery" are 
with the guns. The rest, composed mostly of 
drivers, remain at the horse-line with the cais- 
sons and limbers. Every night, the ration- 
carts and water-wagons leave the horse-line 
for the front, to bring food and water to the 
cannoneers. Whenever ammunition is needed, 
the caissons come up with it at night. This 
means all-night work for the drivers who bring 
it up, and for the cannoneers who unload it at 
the battery position. And here let me pay a 
tribute to the drivers in the field artillery. No 
matter how bad the weather, they must come 
up to the battery position. No matter how 
many shells are landing on the road they are 
to travel, they must bring through the sup- 
plies and ammunition for the cannoneers. 
They cannot drop when they hear the warning 
whistle of an incoming shell. They must stay 



MOVING TO THE FRONT 35 

close to their horses, never leaving them under 
any circumstances. A good driver must be one 
of the "gamest" men in the army. 

After a few hours' sleep we were up and work- 
ing again, getting things in readiness for the 
final move to the front, which, rumor had it, 
was to take place the following day. A large 
number of French troops were living in these 
woods, and it did not take them long to become 
fast friends with our boys. I could speak a 
little French and consequently was invited to 
take supper at the French sergeants' mess. 
Sergeants in the French army live on the "fat 
of the land." They have a separate mess and 
orderlies who wait on table; in short, they 
might almost be considered commissioned 
officers, as far as comfort is concerned. At six 
o'clock I made my way to my friend's dug-out, 
and was introduced, with great formality, to 
some six or seven other sergeants. I made use 
of my best French, such as it was, and they 
seemed to understand me fairly well. Supper 
was announced, and we entered another dug- 
out which was used as a sort of dining-room 



36 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

and club-room. There we found a long table, 
with benches on either side, and a fireplace on 
one side of the room. It was very comfortable 
and homelike. We had scarcely seated our- 
selves when one of the sergeants at once pro- 
posed, "To the Americans, our brave comrades 
in arms," and we stood to drink the toast. I 
then gave them, "France, you who so nobly 
sacrificed your all for the cause of right." This 
last was greeted with great applause and at 
once we became "brothers in arms." The 
French are very particular about etiquette, 
and the smallest "faux-pas" of any kind 
may hurt their feelings deeply. The offer of 
payment for something intended for a gift, 
even to a peasant, may cause a great deal of 
mutual embarrassment. Once a friendship has 
been established, they are the most hospitable 
people on earth. 

As the meal progressed, I was more than 
surprised at the elaborate supper. We had four 
courses followed by salad, cakes, and coffee. 
It was surprising how well we seemed to under- 
stand each other, and I plied them with ques- 



MOVING TO THE FRONT 37 

tions regarding the sector which we were to 
take over. They all agreed that it was "un 
bon secteur," which at the time meant little 
to me, but on looking back from a really bad 
front, their description was excellent. 1 man- 
aged to learn that we were to take over a posi- 
tion near the "Chemin des Dames," which 
marked some of the heaviest fighting of the 
war: both in the previous year, when, after 
a German advance, the French re-took the 
ground which they then occupied, sustaining 
severe losses; and again, in the following spring 
during the drive in March and April, 1918. 
Before the Americans went up to the line the 
sector had been a quiet one with only occa- 
sional raids breaking the monotony of the life. 
How long it would remain quiet, after we 
reached the front, was a matter of conjecture. 
When dinner was over, we sat around the ta- 
ble in the snug little dug-out listening to the ex- 
periences of these men, three of them wearing 
the Croix de Guerre with palms, won for gal- 
lantry at Verdun. Eefore I realized how rapidly 
the time was slipping away, I found that ten 



38 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

o'clock had long since passed. I bade all my 
new friends a reluctant farewell, and making 
my way through the darkness (as no lights 
were allowed so near the front) I found my 
resting-place for the night: the ground and a 
blanket. 

When we awoke the next morning it was to 
learn that the "skipper" with one of the lieu- 
tenants and the instrument and telephone ser- 
geants had gone ahead to the battery position 
to look over the ground. It was a busy morn- 
ing for the rest of us. The guns had to be 
cleaned, ammunition for the Colt "45's" is- 
sued to the men, and all surplus equipment 
turned in. The first four sections (gun sec- 
tions), one park wagon with our field range 
and supplies, with the instrument and tele- 
phone details, machine gunners, ammunition 
and gas sergeants, two cooks, and two me- 
chanics were the lucky ones chosen to "go 
up." I shall never forget how some of the other 
boys begged for a chance to go with us. I had 
at least forty applications from men who 
wanted to join my machine-gun detail. I 



MOVING TO THE FRONT 39 

should have been glad to take them, but four 
were all that I was allowed to use. 

We were ready to leave at one o'clock, but 
it was nearly two before Lieutenant Knauth, 
our executive officer, who had accompanied 
the captain in the morning, arrived at the 
horse-line. He gathered us together, told us 
that we were to move into an old French 
position which was thought by the Germans 
to have been abandoned. Nothing must be 
changed about the position that would show 
to enemy observers that a new battery had 
moved in. "Drivers prepare to mount, mount. 
Forward, Ho!" — and we were off with the 
good-byes of our less lucky friends ringing in 
our ears. 

Our route took us for a short distance 
through the woods, then out into the open, and 
after passing several small villages, we came 
out on the bank of the Aisne River. Shell-holes 
were in evidence everywhere, miles and miles 
of barbed wire, with here and there a French 
poilu standing before the entrance to some dug- 
out. Crossing the river, we entered the town of 



40 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

Vailly, and there I saw what real devastation 
meant. What had formerly been a beautiful 
little French town was now nothing but a heap 
of ruins. Scarcely a house had a roof. Heaps of 
stones and debris lined the road. As our guns 
and limbers rumbled through the streets, 
French soldiers appeared from cellars waving 
us "good luck" as we passed. As we left the 
town, the sun was slowly disappearing behind 
a long ridge of hills in the west, casting its 
golden rays across the fields, and touching here 
and there the small wooden crosses which 
marked the graves of those brave soldiers who 
had died for France; buried where they had 
fallen, on the field of honor. 

We began to meet French troops coming 
the other way. Several companies of infantry 
marching along at "route order," followed by 
a battery of field artillery, all returning for a 
well-deserved rest. 

The road ran along the side of a hill, wind- 
ing around until it crossed a narrow-gauge 
railroad. There we stopped and waited for 
darkness, which was not long in coming. All 




CAPTAIN GEORGE A. PARKER 

Commanding C Battery 



MOVING TO THE FRONT 41 

the equipment was stripped from the park 
wagon and limbers, and we piled it by the 
roadside. At the command of Captain Parker 
the first piece moved on, alone, swerving to 
the left, off the road, pulled up before the 
position and was unlimbered. It was compara- 
tively easy to run the gim back into the pit by 
hand, with the aid of three French soldiers 
who had come over from a neighboring battery 
to help us. The second, third, and fourth pieces 
followed in quick succession, and as the sounds 
from the last limber died away, we realized 
that the guns were in position, and ready to 
fire. The night was clear and still; not a sound 
broke the silence, which was almost oppres- 
sive. The stars twinkled merrily overhead, and 
a full moon shone down upon us. Some of the 
boys were really nervous because there were 
no shells landing. ''The front," as we had pic- 
tured it, was a very different place from this 
quiet, peaceful spot. Now and then a star shell 
shot into the sky, telling us that our infantry 
was in front of us, always on the alert. We were 
all thoroughly tired out and eagerly sought a 



42 ONE OP THE Y. D. 

dug-out where we might turn in. But no such 
luck! There were dug-outs for every one else, 
but none for the machine gunners. So we un- 
rolled our blankets and stretched out in an old 
unused gun-pit, with the star^ overhead, the 
earth beneath us, and a great desire for sleep. 



CHAPTER IV 
OUR FIRST SECTOR — CHEMIN DES DAMES 

We were up early the following morning, 
working on the position, repairing the gun-pits, 
and cleaning the dug-outs as much as possible. 
We were very fortunate in having excellent 
dug-outs, for the most part. They were at 
least thirty feet undergroimd, comfortable and 
warm. Our position was well chosen. Situated 
on the side of a hill, with a steep descent of 
some fifty or sixty feet in our rear, it afforded 
a diflScult target for the enemy, and was not 
particularly exposed to danger from gas-shells. 

There is almost as much routine in the life 
at the front as there is in camp. We were up in 
the morning at half -past five. After mess those 
men not on regular guard duty did the necessary 
policing around the position. Noon mess was 
at twelve o'clock, and mess at night at six 
o'clock, providing the ration-cart arrived on 
time with supplies from the horse-line. 

As to guard duty, there is more of that at 



44 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

the front than anywhere else. In the first place, 
there is a guard in each gun-pit all day and all 
night, working in reliefs. A shell rests upon the 
trail of each gun and the breech is open. At a 
sudden call for barrage, either by rocket or by 
telephone, the guard loads the gun, closes the 
breech, and fires the shot. By that time the 
rest of the gun crew are awake and in the 
pit. 

Then there is the rocket guard whose duty 
it is to watch for the rocket signals from the 
infantry. His duty is an important one. If, for 
any reason, he should not see the signal, it 
means that his battery will be late in starting 
the barrage, and that in consequence, perhaps, 
the lives of his own infantry will be sacrificed. 
In this particular sector we had several differ- 
ent rocket signals. They were: one red rocket, 
barrage; one green rocket, gas alert; one cater- 
pillar rocket, increase range 150 meters; two 
caterpillar rockets, increase range 300 meters. 
Rocket signals differ in different sectors, but 
the principle is the same, and the man on 
rocket guard must always be on the alert, re- 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 45 

membering that many lives may depend upon 
the quick response of his battery to calls from 
the front line. 

There is also a gas guard whose duty it is 
to be continually on the watch, day and night, 
for any sign of gas. The alarm is usually given 
by sounding a Klaxon horn. This reminds me 
of an amusing incident which occurred in New 
York after my return. We had just stepped 
ashore when a huge truck came rapidly around 
the corner and sounded its Klaxon. I saw at 
least five boys, myself included, reach for their 
gas-masks which were hanging at their sides, 
and one lad had his half on before he realized 
where he was. Good gas discipline means get- 
ting on your mask when the Klaxon sounds, 
and asking questions afterwards. 

Then there is the machine-gun guard, whose 
duty it is to watch for enemy airplanes and 
give the alarm so that the men can get under 
cover and not be seen by the observer, should 
he fly over the position: in which case the 
machine gunners fire on the plane until it 
either disappears or is brought down. 



46 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

And last but not least there is the telephone 
guard. Day and night there is a man at the 
switch-board. The telephone is by far the best 
and most effective means of communication 
at the front. The duty of the telephone detail 
is to keep communication established under 
all conditions. I have seen telephone men out 
working on the lines under the heaviest pos- 
sible shell-fire. They go right ahead splicing 
their wires and reestablishing communication 
with the other units, regardless of personal 
danger. If a man is hit, another comes out and 
finishes the job. They don't fight; they make 
it possible for others to fire the guns. They 
just stand and "take it," with no chance to 
get back at the enemy. A telephone man at the 
front is "game" clean through. 

It is surprising how soon we dropped into 
the regular routine of "life at the front." By 
noon mess we considered ourselves veterans. 
The topic of greatest interest to the boys was, 
"When do we fire the first shot, and which 
piece fires it? " There was intense good-natured 
rivalry among the boys as to which of the four 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 47 

gun sections should have the honor of firing 
this first shot. 

We spent the rest of the day making what 
improvements we could in the position. Our 
only excitement during the afternoon was four 
Boche planes which appeared in the distance. 
However, they did not come near enough for 
my boys on the machine gun to fire. We were 
all anxious for a chance to open up and beat 
the other sections to it, but imfortunately they 
stayed at a respectful distance. 

That night I took supper with a French ser- 
geant in his dug-out. We had become good 
friends during the afternoon and he invited 
me to come down to dine with him that eve- 
ning. He lived with a corporal in the most pala- 
tial dug-out I have ever seen. It was spotless, 
with two neat bunks which were adorned by 
real sheets and pillows. We had a delicious 
meal and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I was the 
first American soldier he had ever spoken to, 
and consequently he was more than hospitable. 

The following day was a repetition of the 
first, except for the fact that it rained, making 



48 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

the digging around the position anything but 
pleasant. We were ready and anxious to fire, 
but it was not until the following morning 
at about ten-thirty that our executive officer. 
Lieutenant Knauth, ordered the gun crews to 
their posts, and at exactly 10.55 a.m. of Febru- 
ary 9, 1918, the first piece of C Battery roared 
forth its challenge to the Huns, Lieutenant 
Knauth pulling the lanyard which sent the 
first shell on its way. It was a wonderful feeling 
to hear our guns banging away with the gunner 
corporals and number ones riding the seats of 
the guns like veterans, much to the surprise 
of the French who were there, watching us with 
interest. After firing a few rounds for "regis- 
tration," "Cease fire" came over the telephone 
and the guns were re-laid on our "normal bar- 
rage," cleaned and ready for the next time. 
One might perhaps expect that the boys would 
be somewhat nervous, the first time, at least. 
A remark made by a classmate of mine at 
college, Eddie Hobbs, who was playing num- 
ber one on the fourth piece, illustrated to per- 
fection the feelings of the majority of the boys. 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 49 

After the firing. Captain Parker, while making 
his rounds, stopped at the fourth piece and 
asked Eddie how it was riding. "Well," he re- 
plied, "she's a little rough. Captain, but if 
you'll lend me your spinas, I can manage to 
stick on." All the boys seemed to feel the same 
way; it was what they had come to France 
for, to fight, and they took everything with a 
smile, thoroughly enjoying any break in the 
monotony. 

The following night we had our first real 
gas alarm. It was about ten o'clock at night 
when the alarm was given, and needless to say 
we did not require the regulation six seconds 
to get our masks on. It is a weird feeling to 
hear the alarm sounded for the first time, and 
although no shells had landed near us we were 
none of us sure whether there was really gas 
there or not, until one of the officers tested, 
and finding no sign of it whatever, gave the 
order to remove masks. It was simply an over- 
zealous guard, who, on duty for the first time, 
imagined he noticed gas; hence the alarm. On 
returning to my dug-out, I found one of the 



50 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

boys asleep with his mask on. He seemed 
rather indignant at being awakened and told 
to take it off. It is possible to enjoy a really 
good night's sleep in a gas-mask, only upon 
awakening one has a somewhat similar feeling 
to "the morning after": a slight headache, etc. 
Late in the afternoon of February 9, we saw 
some of our infantry pass the position on their 
way to the front. It was a detachment of the 
101st Infantry, formerly the "Old Fighting 
Ninth" of Massachusetts. We saw them go by 
with a feeling of great respect, because it is the 
infantry that deserve the credit every time. 
Before we went over, back in the States, there 
was much rivalry between the infantry and 
artillery. But after we jBred our first "creeping 
barrage," behind which our infantry went 
"over the top," those boys stopped at the bat- 
tery position on their way back from the front, 
and at once an argument took place. Our boys 
declared that the infantry deserved all the 
credit for the success of the raid, while the 
"doughboys" were equally firm in asserting 
that but for the artillery they would not have 



: OUR FIRST SECTOR 51 

been successful. From that time on, whenever 
one of our boys met a "doughboy" some such 
exchange of remarks as this ensued. 

Infantry: "Say, Buddy, that was one great 
barrage you threw over last night." 

Artillery: "Lay off that stuff, friend, we 
hand it to you doughboys, every time." 

Both: "S'long." 

It is the perfect cooperation and team play 
between the two branches which makes suc- 
cess possible. 

The weather was cold, and for the most part 
damp and disagreeable. We had an inspection 
by our brigade commander. General William 
L. Lassiter, and our colonel, John H. Sher- 
burne, and things were found to be satisfactory. 
We were particularly fortunate in having such 
commanding officers. General Lassiter was a 
real soldier, and a natural leader of men, the 
kind of general who did not wait until there 
was a quiet day at the front before making his 
inspection. He was always with the men, en- 
during the same hardships that they endured. 
Cheerful, and eager to make things as comfort- 



52 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

able as possible for the boys, he was respected 
and liked by all of them. 

Colonel John H. Sherburne, of Brookline, is 
a splendid soldier. He never let an opportunity 
escape to say a word of encouragement to the 
boys. One evening while in billets one of the 
men in my battery was returning from a 
successful trip to the French canteen, carry- 
ing three bottles of champagne, and met the 
colonel. Now, according to strict military eti- 
quette, my friend should have dropped his 
rather expensive burden upon the road, and 
standing at rigid attention,^ should have sa- 
luted as per Drill Regulations. But as the hour 
was late, and he had walked long and far, and 
a delicious supper was awaiting him, he hur- 
ried by. The colonel saw his predicament, 
smiled, and saluted him. My friend smiled 
also; unable to salute, he nodded pleasantly 
and passed on. Some officers I have met would 
have stopped him, given him a thorough 
"bawling out," and confiscated the cham- 
pagne. But not so with Colonel Sherburne; he 
was a human being. One of the highest tributes 




BRIGADIER- GENERAL JOHN H. SHERBURNE 

Formerly Commanding 101st Field Artillery 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 53 

that could be paid him was a somewhat un- 
mihtary remark made by a lad in the regiment: 
"He's a real feller, always pulling for the boys; 
I'd go through hell for that guy." And in say- 
ing this he expressed the general opinion of 
every man in the regiment. 

Near our position the French had an obser- 
vation balloon or "sausage" established, and 
on days when observation was possible, the 
balloon was always up. It seemed to annoy the 
Boches exceedingly, and several times enemy 
planes had made attempts to "get it," but the 
French had always been able to pull it down 
before the Boches were successful. One morn- 
ing, however, all was quiet, when suddenly I 
heard the familiar drone of the German motor. 
I could see no plane, but as the sky was full of 
clouds I felt sure it must be lurking near. The 
noise of the motor grew louder and louder, 
when without any warning I saw the balloon 
burst into flames and the observer jump clear 
in his parachute. Then I saw the plane, a 
fighter, making for its own lines as fast as 
possible, while the French anti-aircraft gims 



54 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

sought vainly to "drop" it. The airman had 
sneaked across, keeping above the clouds until 
he got directly over the "sausage," had done 
his work, and then hastened home, unharmed. 
Five minutes later another balloon was up in 
the same place, as if nothing out of the ordi- 
nary had happened. "You can't keep a good 
man down." 

I think perhaps the prettiest bit of flying 
I ever saw at the front happened that same 
afternoon, when one French plane was at- 
tacked by five Germans. It all took place 
directly over our heads and the machines were 
so low that one could easily make out, with 
tiie naked eye, the iron cross painted on the 
wings of the Boche planes. The machine guns 
were banging away, and to us it looked as if 
the French plane were doomed. They had it 
cornered, and were circling nearer and nearer, 
while the Frenchman was gradually drawing 
them over his own lines. Our machine gun 
started firing, and that was the signal, it 
seemed, for all the machine guns in the sector 
to "open up." But as far as I could see the 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 55 

Boches did not seem particularly impressed. 
They kept right on, when suddenly the French 
plane dropped. Down it came, end over end, 
until it was some two hundred meters above 
the ground, then it straightened out, and sped 
safely back, having cleverly outwitted its pur- 
suers. All the anti-aircraft batteries opened 
fire, and the German aviators hastily with- 
drew, no doubt thoroughly disgusted at having 
lost what to them must have appeared an easy 
prey. It was a remarkable bit of flying, con- 
sidering the fact that the odds were five to one 
against the Frenchman. 

Rumors were current that something inter- 
esting was about to happen. The orders were 
to "stand to" every morning at dawn, and this 
meant one of two things: either those higher 
up expected a German attack or they had a 
little "party" planned for us. It turned out to 
be the latter. On Saturday, February 23, the 
battery was up at 5 a.m. The gun crews were 
at their posts, and we were told that at "zero 
hour" we were to start our barrage. It was 
dark, and scarcely a sound could be heard 



56 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

along the front, save the occasional "tack- 
tack-tack" of some machine gun. The minutes 
passed slowly; they seemed to drag. The cap- 
tain was pacing up and down in the communi- 
cation trench behind the gun-pits, anxiously 
peering at his watch from time to time. I was 
standing on the casemate of the fourth piece 
watching for rocket signals. We knew that our 
infantry was going "over the top" with the 
French, and as it was our first oflFensive bar- 
rage the boys were keyed up with expectancy. 
The telephone rang, and the captain was re- 
ceiving his final instructions from the major. 
At twenty-eight minutes past five, our execu- 
tive officer gave the command "Load." The 
four breech-blocks snapped shut as one. At 
exactly five-thirty the battery commander, 
with his ear to the telephone, commanded 
"Fire," and the four guns spoke as one. And 
at exactly the same moment every battery in 
that sector (there were twenty-eight of them, 
French and American) roared forth in unison. 
It was a wonderful sight. The sky for miles 
was illuminated by the flash of the guns. The 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 57 

ground trembled, and the noise was deafening. 
In a short while I could see the flash of the 
Boche artillery against the sky as they started 
their barrage. The gun crews were working like 
a machine. Between the reports of the guns 
one could hear the "empties" as, thrown from 
the breech, they struck the trail of the piece. 
Thirty minutes elapsed, when suddenly I saw 
a white rocket shoot into the sky and burst 
into twelve stars. It was the signal for " objec- 
tive reached." I had no sooner told the captain 
than orders came over the telephone, "Cease 
fire." The firing stopped as suddenly as it had 
begun, and all was silent once more. 

It was nearly noon before we heard the de- 
tails of the raid, for such it proved to be. We 
saw some of the boys who had "gone over," 
as they stopped at the battery to praise our 
barrage. A platoon of Americans had attacked 
with the French, but our boys had taken only 
twenty-three prisoners, much to the disgust of 
the "poilus" who declared they could have 
taken five times as many had they not killed 
them all. A French sergeant describing the 



58 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

aflFair to me in broken English (he had Hved in 
the States for a while) said, ''Ze Americans 
fight good, but zey take no prisoners; zey kill, 
kill, kill." We all felt that the only good 
German was a dead one. 

Among the prisoners taken were two oflS- 
cers, one of them a captain. The American 
sergeant, a Charlestown lad, who had led the 
raid, and who now wears a Croix de Guerre 
for his bravery, was in charge of the prisoners. 
The Boche captain came up to him in a very 
haughty manner and demanded that inas- 
much as he was a captain in the German army, 
he should be respected as such, and not be 
forced to associate with the privates. The ser- 
geant, who is somewhat over six feet in height, 
stared at him for a moment, then quietly 
"dropped" the captain, with a gentle tap on 
the point of the jaw, and the latter, when he 
came to, was more than glad to associate with 
the German privates, taking great care to 
place them all between himself and the ser- 
geant. 

One must not think that it was all work and 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 59 

no play at the front. There were times when 
the boys would gather in a dug-out and have 
a party. There was a French canteen within 
walking distance of our position and one could 
purchase chocolate, cheese, crackers, jam, and 
champagne. Then at night, five or six of us 
would gather in my dug-out and have a real 
"feast." Any kind of food which broke the 
monotony of "canned willy" and "hard-tack" 
seemed to us delicious. One night I remember 
we were in the midst of a very enjoyable re- 
past when we heard the drone of several Boche 
motors, and extinguishing our candles we went 
outside to see what "was up." It was a clear 
night, and a full moon was in the heavens. 
We could hear the machines very distinctly. 
Searchlights were playing over the sky in an 
attempt to locate the planes. As I glanced up, 
I saw a plane silhouetted against the moon, 
headed in the general direction of our horse- 
line. Soon we heard explosions which we knew 
to be bombs, and by this time the anti-aircraft 
guns were busy. The "party" continued for 
about half an hour, bombs dropping fairly 



60 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

near our position. The Boches at the end of 
that time, having evidently run out of their 
supply of bombs, decided to return, and flew 
slowly back, passing over our heads. When all 
was still once more, we resumed our "feast" 
where we had broken off. We were enjoying 
ourselves thoroughly when we heard the rum- 
bling of caisson wheels on the road. I went to 
the door just in time to hear some one shout 
"Ammunition for C Battery." If there is any- 
thing which really causes one to be disgusted 
with life, it is the news that "Ammunition is 
coming up to-night." It means that every 
man must turn out, officers included; a line is 
formed and the shells passed from hand to 
hand from the caissons to the ammunition 
pits. We had eleven hundred rounds that 
night, and when you consider that every man 
handles each shell as it is passed up the line, 
it means quite a night's work. No lights are 
allowed, and one's sense of touch soon becomes 
highly perfected. 

The following morning I went back with 
some of the men to tjie tpwn pf Vailly to take 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 61 

a bath. A bath at the front is a luxury which is 
seldom enjoyed. It was the first time in nearly 
five weeks that we had our clothes really off. 
When one prepares for a night's sleep at the 
front, the process of undressing consists of re- 
moving helmet, shoes, and leggins. When 
morning comes, little time is lost over one's 
toilet, consequently the prospect of a bath 
was most delightful to us. When we arrived, 
all the hot water had been used, so cold water 
was our lot. Cold water on a cold day is not 
exactly conducive to comfort. However, we 
felt much refreshed and imagined ourselves 
fairly clean as we hiked back to the battery 
ready for another bathless month. 

The month of February closed with much 
rain and hail. It was quite cold, and the warm 
socks and sweaters which we had received 
from home were in great demand. The weather 
as a whole had been poor, and one of the boys 
expressed the general sentiment of the battery 
when he remarked, "Where in hell do they get 
this stuff about sunny France.?" 

March came in with its usual dreary weather. 



62 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

We had a real old-fashioned New England 
blizzard, and it snowed so hard and long that 
my dug-out, which I had built with much pick 
and shovel labor, was completely snowed under. 
We spent most of the day and night in at- 
tempting to keep warm, but, as few of us were 
Christian Scientists, this ended in failure. 
Captain Parker read us an order in which the 
101st Field Artillery was cited for "Coolness 
under fire." This did much to restore our good 
spirits and as the snow disappeared in a few 
days, our troubles were over temporarily. 

Now that the position had been well re- 
paired and we were as comfortable as it is 
possible to be at the front, the oflScers decided 
to move the battery to another position. Our 
new position was decidedly a change for the 
better. It was ideal from the point of view of 
concealment and comfort. It was under a cov- 
ering of camouflage, and there was a small 
track running the entire length. The entrances 
to the dug-outs faced this track, and in the 
morning it was the usual custom to have mess 
brought to your dug-out door on the hand-car 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 63 

which constituted the rolling stock of the road. 
The service was far better than that in any 
of our first-class hotels. 

By this time the Germans knew that there 
were Americans in the sector, and although 
it had been comparatively quiet heretofore, 
things began to "warm up," and it was not 
long before the sector became a lively one. We 
had our batteries so well concealed that the 
Boches had great difficulty in locating them. 
Enemy planes were up all day, but they were 
unsuccessful in their attempt to ''spot" us. 
They did, however, try an ingenious scheme 
to make us give away our positions. One night 
about nine o'clock, our infantry called for bar- 
rage, and the battery opened fire at once. In 
the meantime several enemy planes came over 
with their motors muffled and flying very 
slowly. The trick was soon discovered, and 
the battery "ceased fire" immediately. We dis- 
covered later that a few Germans had started 
over with the idea of having our boys think it 
was a trench raid. When they called for bar- 
rage and we responded, the planes came over 



64 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

in an attempt to discover the location of our 
batteries by the flash of the guns. The attempt 
was unsuccessful, and the anti-aircraft batter- 
ies and machine guns soon made things warm 
for the "avions," and they flew back, minus 
one of their number. 

There were many rumors heard on all sides 
regarding a big enemy offensive. It seemed im- 
possible to us that the Germans could break 
through, and yet the French were continually 
constructing new machine-gun emplacements; 
miles and miles of new barbed-wire entangle- 
ments seemed to spring up overnight. To us 
it seemed impossible to conceive of a German 
advance, and yet the French, as usual, knew 
what they were doing. Among other signs of 
increased activity was the large number of 
enemy planes which were in evidence day and 
night. One aviator in particular, more daring 
than the others, would come over every morn- 
ing between the hours of four and six, flying 
very low and watching for any sign of life on 
cross-roads. Finally the major gave orders for 
all of our machine gunners to be on the watch 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 65 

for this particular Boche. 1 was up myself the 
next morning, hoping that this aviator would 
"be over," but as usual he fooled us and stayed 
away. However, the next morning, after " stand- 
ing to" for an hour and a haK in the cold of 
the early dawn, I descried this plane well in 
our rear flying, slowly and near to the ground, 
in our direction. Some of our infantry in reserve 
were quartered behind us in dug-outs, and the 
only time of day they were allowed above- 
ground was just at dawn. These "doughboys," 
all unaware of their danger, were eating mess, 
when the Boche cut loose on them with his 
machine gun. They scattered instantly and I 
opened up with my Hotchkiss machine gun in 
an attempt to drive him oflp. He did not tarry 
long, but flew back to his own lines, content 
with firing a few rounds in passing. He never 
troubled us again, and I heard that soon after 
the plane was brought down by an anti-aircraft 
gun, and the aviator was found to be a woman. 
According to report she was a countess and had 
taken up flying in an attempt to avenge the 
death of her husband, who had been brought 



66 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

down by a well-known French Ace some time 
before. At all events, the aviator, whether a 
man or woman, was one of the most daring 
flyers I saw at the front. 

Activity along the lines was increasing from 
time to time. On Sunday, March 16, the Ger- 
mans fired a heavy gas concentration directed 
upon our front line. This continued for nearly 
twenty-four hours, and there were many casu- 
alties resulting, both among the French and 
among our infantry. Our artillery was active 
and gave the Boches two shells to their one, 
and it was most satisfactory to hear from our 
observers that ambulances were busy for two 
days behind the German lines. The gas shells 
were landing from five hundred to one thou- 
sand meters in front of our battery position, 
but as the wind was blowing away from us, we 
luckily escaped any damage. The following 
night we were called upon for a barrage, which 
proved to be our last at this front, for the next 
day we received orders to be ready to move by 
9 P.M. and we learned that we were to be re- 
lieved in this sector by the French. The boys 



OUR FIRST SECTOR 67 

were sincerely sorry to go. We had been at the 
front for six weeks, and it was the best six 
weeks that I had spent, up to that time, in the 
army. We knew that in all probability a long 
road hike lay before us, and a road hike means 
walk for the cannoneers. We had never really 
been shelled during that entire six weeks, due 
in large measure to the care of Captain Parker 
in keeping the position hidden from the enemy 
observers, and yet we had done much effective 
work against the enemy. In other words, we 
had thrown stones at a man, and he had not 
thrown them back at us : a pleasant occupation 
from our standpoint. But when he began to 
throw them back, we realized that life at the 
front was not all giving and no taking. Most 
people would rather take than give, in this 
world, but decidedly no, when shells are the 
medium of exchange. So it was that we were 
sorry to leave the front, and on looking back 
upon those six weeks they were not only the 
best we had spent up to that date, but they 
were the best six weeks we spent in France. 
It was a walk of nine kilometers, or more, 



68 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

done for the most part at "double time," and 
the drivers had many a good laugh at the ex- 
pense of the cannoneers, who were trudging 
along, packs on back, envying the luck of the 
drivers who were so comfortably mounted. 
We spent the following day at the horse-line 
in packing up, and preparing for a long road 
march. 



CHAPTER V 
JOIN THE ARTILLERY AND — WALK 

On Wednesday, March 20, the entire battery- 
was up at 2 A.M. It was raining hard, dark as 
pitch, and there were a miUion things to be 
done. We "harnessed and hitched" in total 
darkness save for here and there the "dim 
rehgious Hght" of a lantern. Most of the "car- 
riages " were stuck fast in the mud, especially 
the two park wagons, and the most popular 
command was, "Cannoneers on the wheels." 
Oh, the "cannoneers are in bad" when they 
are not actually at the front! If any disagree- 
able task has to be performed, the "buck" 
is passed to the cannoneers and they are the 
"goats," much to the amusement of the drivers 
who are in their element on a road hike. As 
the cannoneers are the "kings" when the guns 
are at the front, so are the drivers "monarchs 
of all they survey" when the battery is on the 
march. 

Finally, after much pulling and hauling, all 



70 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

the carriages were ready and the command was 
given, "Drivers mount, cannoneers in rear of 
your pieces, fall in." I was not mounted, and 
so I sought the little band of cannoneers 
marching behind the fourth piece. Although 
not attached to any section, I always, on road 
hikes, accompanied the fourth, because the 
chief of that section. Sergeant Ernest O'Cal- 
laghan, a Dorchester boy, and the gunner. 
Corporal Bill Sweeney, of Somerville, were my 
two best friends in the battery, and at night, 
whether at the front or on the march, we three 
always rolled up together in our blankets. 
Corporal Sweeney was also dismounted, and we 
would plod along looking with longing eyes at 
those seats upon the limbers, unused and va- 
cant, because the extra weight of the cannon- 
eers seated upon the limbers might tire the 
horses, and a horse, as every good artilleryman 
knows, is much more necessary to the eflficiency 
of the battery than a man. I will never, as long 
as I live, forget how one day, after we had 
walked and run fifteen kilometers (keeping up 
as best we could with the pace set by the 




CORPORAL WILLIAM J. SWEENEY 

Gunner Fourth Piece 



THE CANNONEERS WALK 71 

horses), the officers took pity upon the cannon- 
eers and ordered them to mount the Hmbers. 
There were seats for all the men in the fourth 
section except Bill Sweeney and myself, and 
room for one of us, but not both. Extract from 
ensuing conversation: 

Corp. Sweeney: "Get up; there's a seat for 

you." 

Corp. Washburn: "Get up yourself; I don't 
belong in this section." 

Corp. Sweeney: "Don't be so damned obsti- 
nate. I don't want to ride." 

Corp. Washburn: "Neither do I." 

(Conversation ceases while two more kilo- 
meters are covered, each inwardly raging at 
the obstinacy of the other.) 

Corp. Sweeney: "Will you get up there and 
ride.?" 

Corp. Washburn: "No, I'll walk." 

Corp. Sweeney: "So '11 1." 

(Both in undertone, loud enough to be 
heard) "He's a damned fool." 

Walk they did in silence with a perfectly 
good seat vacant till the battery halted, some 



72 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

ten kilometers farther on. Conversation re- 
sumed: 

Corp. Sweeney: "Well, how do you feel?" 

Corp. Washburn: "Like hell; how are you?" 

Corp. Sweeney: "I saw a farmhouse back 
there." 

Corp. Washburn: "Let's go!" 

(Hastening away they managed to arrive at 
the nearest farmhouse where fresh eggs and 
milk could be had for a slight consideration.) 

Our destination was Soissons, nearly twelve 
miles distant, where we were to entrain. When 
we had almost reached the outskirts of the 
town, we could distinctly hear firing all along 
the front. The boys were homesick at the 
sound. We later learned that it was the be- 
ginning of the German spring drive; not many 
days elapsed before the Boches were again in 
possession of the very ground on which we 
stood. It seemed almost as if they had waited 
until the Americans were relieved before they 
started their "push." 

We reached the station, thoroughly tired, 
and anxious to get the battery entrained and 



THE CANNONEERS WALK 73 

away, so that we could settle down in those 
box-cars, and have a few hours of uninter- 
rupted sleep. 

The battery had profited well by its first 
experience at entraining, and it was a com- 
paratively simple matter to get things aboard 
with little or no delay. We pulled out of the 
station shortly before noon, with rations for 
twenty-four hours. Most of the boys spread 
their blankets in an attempt to catch a few 
hours' sleep. We had no definite information 
regarding our destination, but the general im- 
pression was that we were to go through " open- 
warfare" maneuvers in conjunction with our 
infantry. It seemed to some of the boys that it 
was a little rough to take an outfit from the 
front and put it through maneuvers behind 
the lines. As things turned out, however, we 
never went through the "despised" training, 
but as a result of a sudden change of orders, 
and much to the delight of the men, the divi- 
sion went back to the lines. 

The trip was a pleasant one; but not long 
enough. Early the following morning, we ar- 



74 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

rived at Brienne le Chateau where we de- 
trained, hitched in, assaulted the "soup gun" 
for some hot coffee, and were on our way be- 
fore 8.30 A.M. 

The road hike that morning was a most 
picturesque one. Spring was in the air, and as 
the sun shone down, its rays were reflected 
from the thin sheet of frost which covered the 
ground. Our route lay through a small French 
village nestling upon the side of a hill. Far from 
the war zone, the town had lost none of its 
quaint beauty. The inhabitants appeared pros- 
perous and well-dressed: in strong contrast to 
the poverty so common in the villages near the 
front. The streets were clean, the houses well- 
painted and attractive. In short, it was a most 
pleasing sight, and a glimpse of what France 
had been before the outbreak of war. We had 
all hoped that we were to be billeted in this 
village, but our area lay in a small town some 
five or six kilometers farther on, and we has- 
tened forward, the cannoneers, as usual, on 
foot adapting their pace to that of the horses. 
It was nearly noon when we arrived at our 



THE CANNONEERS WALK 75 

billets. We strung our picket-lines, watered 
and fed the horses, and sought our resting- 
place for the night. 

Now I feel sure that the general opinion 
among people who have never seen a billet 
in a French town is about as follows: A pic- 
turesque little French house, neat and clean, 
where American lads are eagerly welcomed by 
the "madame," who conducts the tired sol- 
diers to the room where they are to spend the 
night. In this room stand two large, old-fash- 
ioned feather beds, with their snowy, linen 
sheets most inviting to the eye. Then can be 
pictured the evening meal: seated at the table 
are the old grandfather, the madame with her 
three small children, and "les soldats ameri- 
cains." The meal progresses amidst much 
consumption, on the part of the soldiers, of 
eggs, milk, potatoes, etc. We can picture this 
happy family, after supper, with the small 
children sitting trustingly on the knees of our 
boys, much to the delight of the good lady. 
So the evening passes until bedtime. Then we 
see the soldiers gently sinking into the fond 



76 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

embrace of the feather beds; dehciously com- 
fortable and happy, they slowly slip into the 
land which knows no peer — Sleep. 

Now we come to reality. The meaning of the 
word "billet," to those who know, is a place 
to sleep, usually a barn, sometimes a field. 
The barn is invariably old, anything but water- 
proof, also cold, affording little or no protec- 
tion from the wind which whistles uninvitingly 
through large cracks in the boards, expressly 
prepared for this purpose it seemed to us. A 
pile of straw or hay in the center of the dirt 
floor offers sleeping accommodations for all. 
There is generally enough to provide half the 
number of men with a handful each. The others 
sleep on the cold, bare ground. Any man who 
has escaped "cooties" before can rest assured 
that he will find them in abundance in billets. 
Having established ourselves on the least 
draughty side of the building, we seek some 
place in the town where a good meal may 
be purchased. Eggs and milk can be had for 
a rather large compensation. They are well 
worth any price, however, and the meal is 



THE CANNONEERS WALK 77 

good. We retire to our barn, unable to have a 
light because of the danger of fire (which would 
be a great blessing to other troops that may- 
follow us), unroll our blankets and make our 
beds in the dark upon the floor which has been 
packed hard by many generations of feet. 
Comfortable at last, we fall asleep with the 
fragrant odor of many cattle in close proxim- 
ity. These were our billets. 

Reveille was early the next morning, and 
the day was spent in cleaning our equipment, 
grooming horses, washing material, and polic- 
ing the picket-line. A typical day of rest in the 
army. 

We were on the road the following day, and 
"hiked" until noon when we billeted in the 
small town of Chausine, a barn serving as our 
shelter. Palm Sunday was a beautiful day, 
warm and simny with a distinct touch of spring 
in the air. It was the one day of real rest which 
we had enjoyed since January. In the afternoon 
a baseball game was arranged between the 
drivers and cannoneers, which proved a great 
success. The road march upon the following 



78 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

day was a long one, and our destination was 
the town of Theil. We were given to understand 
that we were on our way to our permanent 
billets, where we were to have rest for two or 
three weeks. It was good news, and all the 
boys were eagerly anticipating a change of 
clothes and many baths to make up for lost 
time. 

We arrived at these billets on March 27. 
C Battery was quartered in the town of Vigne, 
one of the dirtiest and most uncomfortable 
places I have ever seen. It was a hike of some 
twenty-three miles or more, the longest up to 
date, and we were all thoroughly tired. I found, 
much to my disgust, that I was one of the cor- 
porals of the stable guard that night. The boys 
were scattered over the town, some sleeping in 
barns and others pitching "pup tents." It was 
a difficult task to get my relief together in- 
asmuch as some of the more weary ones had 
camouflaged themselves very successfully in 
the hay. The duty of the stable guard is to 
keep a strict watch on the horses. If any 
break away from the picket-line, the guard 



THE CANNONEERS WALK 79 

must catch and tie them. On a dark, rainy 
night it is anything but a pleasant task to 
spend two hours following some horse from 
one end of the field to the other; the private on 
guard soon learns this and calls the corporal 
of the guard at the least provocation, prefer- 
ring to see the latter pursue the horse rather 
than to do it himself. 

Now that we had arrived at our permanent 
billets, we learned that the orders had been 
changed, and that the division, instead of 
having a rest, was to go up at once to the front. 
The one incident of interest which occurred 
was the passing of Secretary of War Baker 
through our town in a large and comfortable 
limousine. The arrival of mail, coupled with 
the news that we were to return to the front, 
set everybody in the best of spirits. I can 
truthfully say that every man in the battery 
was heartily glad to shake the mud (not dust, 
as there is very little of the latter) of Vigne 
from his boots. The billets had proved per- 
manent for one day, and that was twenty- 
four hours too long, we thought. 



80 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

We marched approximately thirty-three kil- 
ometers to Neuf Chateau, and passing through 
the town, we arrived at Colombey, our resting- 
place for the night. There were many signs that 
we were nearing the front, such as machine- 
gun emplacements, "abris," and our old friend 
barbed wire. They were all pleasing sights 
to the boys, as we were thoroughly sick of do- 
ing nothing but hike and groom horses. 



CHAPTER VI 
IN THE TOUL SECTOR 

The 3d of April found the first platoon on its 
way to the front, reheving a platoon of F Bat- 
tery of the 7th Field Artillery. The guns pulled 
into position at ten o'clock at night near the 
town of Rambucourt in the Toul Sector. Our 
battery position was a short distance to the 
left of "Dead Man's Curve," a notoriously bad 
stretch of road, continually shelled by the 
Boches, who gave us a royal welcome with 
H.E. (high-explosive) and gas. We found the 
dug-outs anything but shell-proof, which fact 
did not worry us in the least, as we were more 
than glad to be "on the line" again. 

The second platoon made their relief the fol- 
lowing night, and our division had now taken 
over the sector. We were given to understand, 
by those whom we relieved, that there was 
much enemy activity. The Boches were on 
higher ground than our boys, and consequently 
the advantage was with them. We had scarcely 



82 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

been in position one day before we, too, real- 
ized that the sector was not a quiet one. With 
unpleasant regularity the Boches would throw 
over gas at mess-time. It did not take us long 
to rearrange our eating-schedule, but the ene- 
my seemed to know of the change almost as 
soon as the battery. We found the inhabi- 
tants — what few there were — on the whole 
rather unfriendly. They seemed to have pro- 
German sympathies and we were warned to 
be on the lookout for spies. The little town 
of Mandres was near our battery positions, 
and it was constantly being shelled. It was at 
this time that we made the acquaintance of 
the Austrian "88's," or "whiz-bangs," as they 
are familiarly known. These guns are more 
effective than the German "77's" as the shells 
give little or no warning of their approach. In 
the case of the Austrian *'88's," it is almost 
impossible to throw one's self on the ground 
before the shell bursts, once it is on its way. 
The name "whiz-bang" describes them very 
accurately. One hears a whiz in the air, and 
the explosion of the projectile follows almost 



IN THE TOUL SECTOR 83 

immediately. The German guns, however, were 
more to our hking. One could, upon hearing 
the warning whistle of a " 77 " shell, seek a 
soft spot on the ground and flatten one's self 
in a leisurely manner. The Austrian guns are 
most effective, and no one who has been on 
the "receiving end" is likely to forget them. 
In this sector the enemy pursued an entirely 
different policy from that at Soissons. They 
seemed ready to "open up" upon the least 
provocation. I remember one day when a 
friend of mine. Corporal Ralph Lindsey, our 
acting ammunition sergeant, on his way to 
regimental headquarters with the daily report, 
stopped for a moment on the road to Beau- 
mont. A Boche observation balloon was up 
and the road was in direct view. My friend 
paused for a moment, conversing with an ac- 
quaintance, when a shell landing some twenty 
yards away terminated the conversation and 
he hurried down the road in the direction 
of headquarters. Other shells followed in 
rapid succession until finally Lindsey sought 
the welcome protection of a ditch. The firing 



84 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

ceased, and he completed his mission without 
further annoyance. In telHng of his experience, 
he seemed much pleased to think that the 
Boches were so anxious to "get him" that they 
should have wasted some ten or a dozen rounds 
upon one man. "I'll bet no general ever had 
such a compliment," he added, and he was 
imdoubtedly right. The Boches seemed to 
think that by such methods they could worry 
our boys and thereby reduce the morale, but 
instead of worrying our men such tactics 
amused them. 

As I mentioned before, our position was an 
extremely poor one. It had been accurately 
" spotted " by the enemy, and I noticed that 
our friends from the 7th Field Artillery, whom 
we had relieved, were glad to get away from 
the place. Consequently, after repairing the 
position as best we could, orders came down 
to be ready to move to another some two miles 
to the left on the outskirts of a small neigh- 
boring town. Our new position was nothing 
more or less than a mud-hole. There were 
three dug-outs in the place, and all of them 



;^^S 



'f^-\^ 



^^.^i^^^ 




CORPORAL RALPH I. LINDSEY 



IN THE TOUL SECTOR 85 

were full of water. The captain's dug-out, the 
best of the three, had water covering the floor 
to a depth of three feet. The entire night was 
spent in getting the guns into position, and 
well I remember that it took twelve of us from 
eleven at night till six the next morning to 
move the first piece some fifteen or twenty feet 
into its gun-pit. The mud was waist-deep in 
some places, and when dawn broke at last, the 
entire battery, as they fell in to march up to 
the mess, appeared more like a conglomeration 
of mud-balls than soldiers in the American 
Army. The majority of the men slept in the 
town, and those of us who stayed at the posi- 
tion pitched "pup" tents and were fairly 
comfortable. 

The following night one of the men on 
rocket guard noticed a light flashing suspi- 
ciously toward the German lines. It was a sig- 
nificant fact that the town was apparently 
immxme to enemy shelling. There were several 
inhabitants, for the most part old people, who 
lived there in comparative safety. All things 
pointed to treachery on the part of some of 



86 ONEOFTHEY. D. 

these people, and we did our best to locate 
the spies. I heard one story, the veracity of 
which I cannot vouch for, to the effect that an 
old woman, who had been selling apples to our 
boys in the town of Mandres, had been watched 
and followed to her home, only to find that she 
was not a woman, but a man in disguise. A 
telephone with a line running to the German 
trenches was also found in the cellar. Such 
a thing was possible, and there is no doubt 
that the enemy had arranged a system of sig- 
nals whereby they were informed of the move- 
ments of American troops. 

We spent but a few days in the "mud-hole" 
position, as we called it. Our orders to move 
again were received at 6.45 p.m. on April 12. 
We were to be on our way by eight o'clock, 
which meant quick work. I was on a detail to 
load one of the park wagons with the telephone 
and machine-gun equipment when the Boches 
cut loose with gas. It was our first real gas at- 
tack, and we knew it was no false alarm be- 
cause one could smell the chlorine on all sides. 
We all slipped on our masks, and went on with 



IN THE TOUL SECTOR 87 

the loading. It is no pleasant evening's sport 
to load a large wagon with one's gas-mask 
on, and we were all thoroughly glad when the 
wagon pulled out of the town, we following on 
foot. As we passed through Mandres, we found 
that the enemy were shelling the road ahead 
of us. If there was any one who had had doubts 
up to this time as to the veracity of the spy 
rumors, they were dispelled once and for all, 
as the Boches had our movements timed to a 
nicety. Bad luck seemed to follow us. We had 
hardly started when one of the park wagons got 
stuck in a ditch, and it was necessary to imload 
it, pull it out by hand, and reload it before we 
could continue. 

We fully believed that we were bound for 
Cambrai, for rumors of a big German drive 
had reached us, and, if this were true, we all 
knew that we were in for some real fighting. 
It was this news which encouraged us more 
than anything else, as we knew we had a 
forced march before us. Most of the men, save 
the drivers, were on foot, and we plodded along 
covering mile after mile in silence except for 



88 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

the occasional boom of a gun in the distance. 
About three o'clock in the morning, we halted 
in a small town to await orders. A railroad ran 
along by the side of the road, and three flat- 
cars were reposing peacefully upon the track. 
Two other boys and myseK stepped aboard 
and stretched out on the floor, intent upon 
snatching a few moments' sleep. At once we 
dozed off, when suddenly hearing a yell, and 
looking over the side of the car, I saw that we 
were moving rapidly down the track. I awak- 
ened my companions and we all jumped, just 
in time to escape being carried away. While 
we were asleep an engine had been coupled to 
the cars and started away with us. Truly the 
gods were against us, and the only place left 
to sleep was the road. One of our number, 
whose sense of smell was keener than the rest, 
located a "doughboy" kitchen. Upon entering 
it we were invited to partake of some hot 
oatmeal, bread, and bacon. I don't think any- 
thing ever tasted so good to me as that meal, 
and those cooks, whoever they may be, will 
always hold a warm place in our hearts. 



IN THE TOUL SECTOR 89 

The orders were not long in coming, and we 
were on our way by sunup. On and on we 
walked, changing with the drivers now and 
then for a brief rest. Toward noon we reached 
what proved to be our horse-line, and after an 
hour's delay started up once more for the front. 
We put the guns into position at 7 p.m., un- 
loaded eight caissons of ammunition, and then 
those men who were not on guard were allowed 
to turn in. It was our first twenty-four hours 
straight without sleep, and at the time it 
seemed to us "real soldiering." If we could 
only have looked into the future we should 
have called it an easy day. 

Our battery position proved to be located 
upon a hill overlooking the little town of 
St. Julien. It was the best position we ever 
moved into. A French battery had been there 
before us, and the French have no equals 
when it comes to constructing dug-outs and 
gun emplacements. We were told that things 
had been quiet before our arrival, but the 
Boches evidently knew of our coming and the 
next morning welcomed us with as pretty a 



90 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

bit of shelling (mixed gas with H.E. for good 
measure) as was my good fortune to see. One 
reason for the "fireworks" may have been the 
fact that the following day was Sunday, which 
was usually a very busy day for both sides. 
Many a time I have lost track of the days of 
the week, and the only way in which I was 
able to identify Sunday was by the marked 
increase in enemy activity. 

It was evident that the Boches were restless, 
and not a day went by without our being 
treated to a bombardment. Again the enemy 
selected mess-time for their shelling, and it 
caused much annoyance to our boys. Without 
any warning whatever the shells would burst 
in close proximity to the kitchen, thereby dis- 
couraging the cooks in their good work, with 
the result that our meals were often cold. I re- 
member well one day, when one of the boys 
in the fourth section, with his mess-kit full of 
soup and his cup full of coffee, was making his 
way with diflSculty along a narrow path back 
to the dug-out, there to enjoy the luxury of a 
really hot repast, the enemy selected this par- 



IN THE TOUL SECTOR 91 

ticular moment for "opening up," and soon the 
shell fragments were whistling merrily through 
the air. Most of the boys were in the dug-outs 
and those unfortunate ones caught in the open 
were hugging the ground in the most affection- 
ate manner. Our friend with the mess-kit, how- 
ever, kept steadily on, glancing neither to the 
right nor to the left. His one ambition in life 
seemed to be to keep his equilibrium upon the 
treacherous path. Several men shouted to him 
to "drop" until the bombardment was over, 
but he paid not the least attention to these 
well-meaning friends. One shell splinter hit his 
cup, spilling a few drops of coffee. This seemed 
to annoy my friend greatly to judge from the 
expression on his face, but his eye never wav- 
ered for a second from the slippery path. At 
last he gained his objective, the dug-out, and 
was lost to view. Some time later, in the after- 
noon, I met him and asked why he took such 
an unnecessary risk, and why he had not 
dropped upon the ground. He glanced at me 
for a moment in amazement and replied: "Do 
you think I was going to take a, chance on 



92 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

spilling the first hot mess I 've had in a month, 
by dropping on the ground just because a few 
shells were landing near? Nothing doing; as it 
was I lost some coffee." I might add that when 
the shelling ceased and the rest of us finally got 
our mess, it was cold. 

The weather, for the first ten days, was 
cloudy and rainy. There were comparatively 
few planes about, either American or Boche, 
and most of our spare time was spent indoors, 
our snug dug-outs forming a pleasing contrast 
to the cheerless rain which fell in abundance. 
There was a French battery of "75's" about 
a hundred yards to our left, and within easy 
view from our position. It was a constant 
source of amusement to watch these French- 
men playing soccer within four thousand yards 
of the lines, as unconcernedly as if they were 
in Paris. One day the Boches started shelling 
their battery at a critical point in the game. 
As the first shell landed, the game ceased and 
the men disappeared, leaving the ball alone 
upon the field. In about twenty minutes, when 
the shelling had stopped, they returned, re- 



IN THE TOUL SECTOR 93 

suming the game as if nothing more serious 
than a thunderstorm had caused the delay. 
It was a typical example of the French spirit. 
While the poor weather continued, there 
was comparatively little for the machine gun- 
ners to do, so the captain gave us the privilege 
of standing on rocket guard; each man doing a 
shift of two hours and a quarter every night. 
Our battery was so placed that if called on to 
fire a barrage by a rocket from the infantry. 
Second Battalion Headquarters, which was in 
front of us and to our left, relayed the signal 
from the front line to us, and we, in turn, re- 
layed it to three batteries which were behind 
a hill in our rear. It was perfectly apparent 
that if we should miss the signal, not only our 
battery, but those three depending on our 
rocket, would fail to fire. Each man as he went 
on guard was given two signal pistols, one con- 
taining a red rocket and the other a green, the 
former being the signal for our "normal bar- 
rage," and the latter for "gas alert." It was 
necessary to stand for the entire time in prac- 
tically the same position, as our eyes were 



94 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

focused on one point, Second Battalion Head- 
quarters. The first three or four nights passed 
uneventfully, and I stood for two and one 
quarter hours each night with nothing to break 
the monotony of my lonely vigil. The following 
night my shift on guard was from 2A5 to 5 a.m. 
When I went on, I asked the man whom I re- 
lieved how things were, and he answered that 
everything was quiet. I took my post on a 
small hill directly over the gun-pit of the first 
piece and, after examining the signal pistols 
to make sure they were in working order, set- 
tled myself for a dreary wait. A thick, low- 
hanging mist made it difficult to distinguish 
the blur of woods which, on a clear night, were 
visible from my position. Not a sound broke 
the stillness save the guard in the first section 
gun-pit who was softly singing to himseK some 
snatch of song, popular music of the previous 
year, as he paced to and fro near the trail of the 
gun. It seemed as if there were no war, and 
that we were alone. Even the machine guns in 
the trenches, usually so active, seemed to have 
fallen asleep. The damp fog which enveloped 



IN THE TOUL SECTOR 95 

us in its grayish mantle broke for a moment 
and I saw the first faint signs of dawn in the 
east. It was the usual time for attack, and I 
wondered at the unnatural stillness. A flare 
lit up the sky for a brief moment, settling 
slowly to earth in its curving flight. Then 
silence and darkness once more. Suddenly a 
machine gun awoke from its lethargy, and this, 
in turn, was followed by another and still 
another. More flares shot heavenward and 
a white and red rocket — a Boche signal — 
curved across the sky. Something was doing 
down in front, and as the machine-gun fire 
increased, punctuated now and again by the 
deeper report of some enemy field-piece, I 
knew it would not be long before the call came 
for our artillery to lend a hand. There "it 
broke," the red rocket I had been so eagerly 
awaiting, the signal from the front line to bat- 
talion headquarters. A second or two slipped 
by, — they seemed like hours, — and then, 
directly in front, rose another red rocket, my 
signal. Before it was fairly in the air, I had 
fired my pistol and shouted "'normal barrage." 



96 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

Our second piece answered with a roar, and the 
other guns followed, banging away at top 
speed. What had been, but a moment before, 
absolute stillness was transformed into a veri- 
table inferno, the ground shaking under my 
feet as the remaining three batteries in the 
regiment "opened up." We fired five barrages 
that night, one after another, the Boches com- 
ing back at us whenever we slackened our fire. 
As dawn appeared and both sides gradually 
ceased fire, a shell burst well in our rear and 
a fragment whizzed over my head, making a 
noise like a "kitchen stove" as it passed, and 
landed some few feet away. It proved to be 
the last from the Boches that morning, and as 
I slipped into my bunk to snatch a few hours' 
sleep, I realized that the remark once made to 
me by an old French sergeant was all too true. 
It was, "Quand les choses sont les plus calmes 
au front, gardez-vouscontre I'attaque." Which, 
being translated, means: When things are the 
most peaceful at the front, watch for an 
attack. 



CHAPTER VII 
OUR LOYAL FRIEND THE COOTIE 

There is one subject, a very important one, 
connected with military life in France, which 
may be somewhat painful to the aesthetic taste 
of some of my readers. If this is so, pray skip 
the following pages until the narrative is re- 
sumed upon a somewhat higher plane. The sub- 
ject I refer to is that of the humble "cootie," 
who plays such a leading part in the life of 
every soldier at the front. Sharing the same 
dangers, undergoing the same hardships, the 
cootie, once one has acquired the habit, is con- 
stantly reminding one that no matter how 
dangerous the life, he will not leave his new- 
found friend. In other words, once the cooties 
get you, they are with you to the end. Some of 
the wise ones may seek to play upon the credu- 
lity of the unknowing and claim that, although 
they were at the front six months, they never 
had cooties. If you ever hear such a statement 
made, one of two things is true: either the one 



98 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

who made the statement was never at the 
front, or else he is a disciple of Ananias. No, 
everybody has them, officers and men alike. 
A cootie shows no preference between the 
humblest "buck" in the regiment and him who 
wears a gold leaf upon his shoulder. Cooties 
are democratic in the highest sense of the word, 
they "love them all." 

In the training at Camp Coetquidan, it was 
a comparatively simple task to keep clean. 
Every soldier in the regiment had the "Satur- 
day night privilege" at least once a week. At 
the front it was a different story. A bath with 
hot water once a month was a luxury, and 
more often one had recourse to shell-holes for 
one's bathing-water. Even the most fastidious 
in the battery hardly averaged more than 
seven or eight baths from February to July. 
It was simply out of the question, that's all. 
This being the state of affairs, Mr. Cootie rap- 
idly took advantage of us, and made the most 
of our lack of bathing facilities. Toward the 
last of April, the majority of the battery freely 
admitted that they had discovered the unwel- 



OUR FRIEND THE COOTIE 99 

come guests, but I made no incriminating state- 
ments one way or the other. True, I had not 
discovered any up to that time, but for the 
very good reason that I had not looked. Be- 
Heving firmly in the theory that what one does 
not Jaiow does not exist, I postponed the fatal 
moment as long as possible. One night, how- 
ever, while on guard, something told me that 
modest as I might wish to appear, I was not 
alone in my glory. So when I returned to my 
dug-out I found an old friend of mine. Sergeant 
MacDuffie, chief of the first section, awake and 
reading an old paper. I begged him to put it 
aside for a few moments and assist me in my 
unpleasant task. 

Sergeant MacDuflBe had recently returned 
from the First Army Corps School at Gondre- 
court, where he had had ample opportunities 
to bathe, and appeared horrified when I men- 
tioned my suspicions regarding the cooties. 
Before the war we had planned to room to- 
gether at college, but through circiunstances 
over which we had no control we were bunking 
together, at this time, in a dug-out. I supplied 



100 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

him with one of those indicators used by ele- 
vator starters in counting the number of peo- 
ple entering a building, and used by us to keep 
a record of the number of incoming shells from 
the Boches. After removing the necessary gar- 
ments, I proceeded to take account of stock, 
my friend registering each cootie as I discov- 
ered him. It was late at night and we were both 
tired, so, after reaching the thirties, we de- 
sisted in our search. Otherwise it would have 
been an all-night job. I will never forget the 
look of disgust registered upon the sergeant's 
face, and I hastened to remark that I supposed 
he too was troubled with cooties. "I should 
say not!" he replied; "how can you think such 
a thing possible?" He had hardly made this 
denial when I noticed his hand steal stealthily 
beneath his blouse and begin a systematic 
scratching. I retired to my bunk for a good 
night's sleep, glad to find that I had an un- 
willing companion in my misery. I made the 
following note in my diary: "May 2nd. Won- 
derful day; best we have had so far up here, 
which is n't saying much. Plenty of Boche 



OUR FRIEND THE COOTIE 101 

planes around. I am a real soldier now, just 
found 34 cooties and one that must have 
weighed at least one-half pound." 

Yes; from that time on, they never left me; 
and I can remember with what a keen sense of 
satisfaction I discovered my last. After reach- 
ing New York, having bathed zealously on 
shipboard during the return trip, I turned him 
loose on Fifth Avenue, feeling that one who 
had shown such devotion to me as to follow 
me from France to America at least deserved 
to be permitted to enjoy the sights on the fash- 
ionable avenue of our great metropolis — 
alone. 

During the latter part of April, and the early 
days in May, we noticed a marked increase in 
enemy aerial activity. There was a French 
anti-aircraft battery very near om* own posi- 
tion and they were very busy during the day. 
I walked over, one evening, to pay a visit to 
these Frenchmen. They had been in this same 
position for the past three years, and their 
living quarters were almost palatial. The officer 



102 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

in charge lived in a small house, well under 
the lee of a hill. There were even flower pots 
in the windows, and a narrow path leading to 
the door. One of the poilus told me that al- 
though they had been there three years, as yet 
they had never brought down an enemy plane. 
The men seemed in good spirits, and the per- 
sonnel of the battery was composed, for the 
most part, of soldiers who had either been 
wounded or gassed and had been transferred 
to this less dangerous branch of the service. 
The system employed by this battery in "spot- 
ting" an enemy plane was as follows: A man 
from the battery was always in the front-line 
trenches. Whenever a hostile plane came over 
he at once communicated with the battery, the 
"alert" signal was given, and the men took 
their posts at the guns, ready to fire when the 
hostile "avion" appeared. This battery never 
fired after dark, because the enemy were doing 
their best to locate its position, and the flashes 
from the guns were easily visible at night. It 
was most interesting to see a French battery 
of this type, and I received many valuable sug- 



OUR FRIEND THE COOTIE 103 

gestions regarding anti-aircraft work from 
these Frenchmen. 

The life in this position was thoroughly en- 
joyed by the boys. The dug-outs were well 
constructed and warm. Each had a small stove 
or fireplace, and it was not long before we 
made use of these luxuries, for cooking eggs 
and bacon. The small town of St. Julien was 
within a mile of us, and every night one boy 
from the section would take a trip to the town, 
there to purchase such delicacies as eggs, jam, 
canned peaches and pears, cheese, and cham- 
pagne. Then at night, if things were quiet, 
we would have a meal "fit for the gods," and 
we developed some excellent cooks among the 
boys in the section. 

One evening my friend. Sergeant MacDuffie, 
chief of this section, discovered a Victrola at 
the battalion aid station, in the town. He spoke 
to the medical officer in charge and succeeded 
in borrowing the Victrola with some records 
for the evening. Never in my life has any music 
sounded so wonderful to me. The records were 
very old and some of them badly worn, but 



104 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

nevertheless they sounded to us like the very 
latest efforts of Al Jolson. We played the Vie- 
trola till nearly three in the morning. It was 
impossible to hear a sound outside of the dug- 
out, and it was not until the following day 
that the other sections learned of our musical 
orgy. Each section desired to borrow the Vic- 
trola, and we finally turned it over to the 3d 
Section with the understanding that they 
should carry it back to the medical oflScer. 
They agreed, and we parted reluctantly with 
the instrument. That afternoon, the captain, 
accompanied by an English officer, was return- 
ing from the O.P. (observation post) where he 
had been registering the battery, and paused 
a short distance in the rear of the 3d Section 
dug-out. The door was open, and imagine his 
surprise when he heard the strains of "He's 
My Yankee Doodle Dandy" wafted to his 
ears. The two officers drew near and peered in, 
and there they saw Arnold Eydenberg, one of 
the most amusing boys in the section, standing 
upon a table, giving a very creditable imitation 
of George Cohan in his most approved Broadway 



OUR FRIEND THE COOTIE 105 

style. It was worth "beaucoup francs" to see 
the captain's face. No doubt he had been tell- 
ing the English officer how hard his men were 
working, digging and "improving each shining 
hour." At any rate, he hustled the Englishman 
down to his own dug-out and sent up word to 
return the "music box" at once. 



CHAPTER VIII 
AT THE FIRST CORPS SCHOOL — GONDRECOURT 

On the third day of May, I received my orders 
from the captain to be ready to leave that night 
for the First Army Corps School at Gondre- 
court. This was a Non-Commissioned Officers' 
School, a stepping-stone to Samur, the Field 
Artillery Officers' School in France. I left the 
battery in the evening, spending that night 
at the horse-line, and the next morning we 
were taken in trucks to om* final destination, 
Gondrecourt. It was a beautiful ride and we 
thoroughly enjoyed it. We arrived in the after- 
noon, and at once were marched away for a 
bath and a change of clothes. One of the 
assistant instructors was in charge, and halt- 
ing us on the outskirts of Gondrecourt, he 
apologized for asking a rather personal ques- 
tion. He desired those men who had cooties to 
raise their hands. There were between forty 
and fifty of us in the detachment, and all 
but about five of these raised their hands as 



AT THE FIRST CORPS SCHOOL 107 

one man. Those who remained, claiming to be 
"pm-e," were denounced in such strong terms 
as prevaricators and "camouflageurs," that 
they evidently decided to waive personal pride 
and reluctantly raised their hands, making the 
vote imanimous. We were then marched back 
to the school, and told that for that night we 
must sleep in a separate barrack until our 
clothes could be "de-cootiefied," and a hot 
bath administered to each and every one of 
us. We spent a very comfortable night upon 
the floor of an old and unused Adrian barracks, 
the certainty of an unbroken night's sleep 
forming a pleasant contrast to the uncertainty 
of the nights at the front, where two hours of 
uninterrupted slumber were the height of one's 
ambition. Looking forward to a real hot bath 
on the morrow, we fell asleep to dream a 
beautiful dream in which soapsuds and shower 
baths played the leading roles. 

Early the following morning we were gath- 
ered together and transported in trucks to the 
medical station where our clothes were put 
through the cleanser and steamed out of all 



108 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

fit or fashion, then returned to us in an un- 
recognizable mass of wool and cotton, damp 
and clammy, but free from cooties. We en- 
joyed, to the limit, our first hot shower bath 
in France. It was Sunday, and we were al- 
lowed to visit the town of Gondrecourt, which 
proved to be picturesque and attractive. A 
small river runs through the center of the town 
in which most of the local washing was done. 
It was an interesting sight to see the French 
girls, in their white caps and wooden "sabots," 
hastening to the river with the family laundry. 
The following day our work at the school 
commenced. We had regular schedules of work 
with very little time for play. We were up 
in the morning at seven o'clock, mess from 
seven to seven-thirty, and at eight o'clock 
a very thorough personal inspection by our 
commanding officer, Captain Hudnut, a West- 
Pointer, and one of the finest officers it was 
my privilege to serve under. After inspection, 
we went through physical exercises for thirty 
minutes. Our lectures lasted from nine o'clock 
till noon, and with an hour out for lunch, con- 



AT THE FIRST CORPS SCHOOL 109 

tinued until 4 p.m. We were given instructions 
in gunnery, telephones, battery instruments, 
materiel, horses, and gas defense. It was a 
most complete course, and those who really 
worked gathered much valuable information. 
The one thing which appealed to all of the men 
was the fact that one was not only able to keep 
clean and shaved, but one was required to: 
a pleasant contrast to life at the front. 

We had been there for perhaps two or three 
weeks when we began to get restless for the 
"old outfit" and the front. I wondered what 
the boys in the battery were doing and wanted 
to be back with them. I remember one night 
at about ten o'clock, I was standing outside 
the barracks looking at the moon which had 
just risen. Suddenly I heard the distant boom 
of guns faintly borne to my ears on the still 
night air. I knew my battery was up there, 
and I was homesick. I crept into the barracks, 
and awoke one of the boys from the 101st 
Regiment. Together we stood there listening 
to the distant guns, each of us wondering what 
part his battery was playing in the barrage. 



CHAPTER IX 
BACK TO THE FRONT 

When, at the end of the month, our course 
completed, we were to leave for our organiza- 
tions, it was with a sense of getting back home 
that we jumped aboard the train which car- 
ried us to Toul, where we had a good lunch in 
one of the cafes, boarded some trucks, and 
by three o'clock we arrived at our regimental 
headquarters. That night I spent at our horse- 
line located in the town of Andilly. It was 
"great" to be back with the boys again, and I 
was anxious to go up to the front that night. 
I was disappointed, however, and it was not 
until the following evening that I stepped 
aboard the park wagon bound for our battery 
position, which I learned was on the outskirts 
of the town of Bernecourt. It was rapidly 
growing dark as we rattled along the road. I 
was given to understand that there was much 
activity in this sector, and that the road we 
traveled was a favorite for Boche shelling. It 



BACK TO THE FRONT 111 

seemed ages since I had heard the warning 
whistle of a shell, and when the first one 
came over, bursting in a field to our right, it 
seemed almost like a "welcome home" from 
Fritz. 

The boys were eager for reading-matter, a 
supply of which I had brought with me, and 
we established quite a circulating library dur- 
ing the next few days. We had moved during 
my absence and the new position, although a 
fairly good one, was decidedly a change for the 
worse. The dug-outs were small, and stagnant 
water to the depth of several inches filled the 
communication trenches. It was evident that 
there was much work to be done in and about 
the position. 

It was necessary to divide the firing battery, 
and keep at the position only those who were 
absolutely necessary. The extra men lived in 
the town of Bernecourt, where our kitchen was 
located in an old barn. The Boches were very 
regular in their methods, and shelled the town 
every night. During the day there was scarcely 
any firing, but at dusk, when the water-wagons 



112 ONEOFTHEY. D. 

and ration-carts came up, the Boches would 
open up with H.E. and gas. 

The dug-out in which seven of us slept was 
by no means gas-proof, and one night we had 
this fact very forcibly brought home to us. It 
must have been about three o'clock in the 
morning when we were all awakened by Cor- 
poral Ralph Lindsey who gave the gas alarm. 
We slipped on our masks which were always 
with us, as it was easy to tell that the dug-out 
was filled with the fumes. We had all been 
asleep, and had it not been for Corporal Lind- 
sey who, happening to wake up, discovered 
the gas and warned us, some of the men might 
easily have been overcome. 

There were persistent rumors of an enemy 
tank attack, and an anti-tank position was 
constructed for the fourth piece in case the 
attack materialized. Our observers reported 
many train-loads of enemy troops coming in 
daily and we were fully prepared for an offen- 
sive movement on the part of the Boches. 
During the early part of June, it was a com- 
mon occurrence for us to see aeroplanes return- 



BACK TO THE FRONT 113 

ing from bombing expeditions against Metz 
which was about thirty miles away. Eddie 
Riekenbacker, the famous American Ace, was 
flying behind us, and the boys at the horse- 
Hne saw him perform frequently. 

It was about this time that the "three-day 
fever" hit us. Men in the gun crews were 
forced to return to the horse-line, and some of 
them were evacuated to the hospital. It was 
an extraordinary disease and swept through all 
the armies. Allied and German. A man who 
contracted this disease was incapacitated for 
three days, and upon the fourth, in nine cases 
out of ten, was completely recovered. There 
were no after effects, save for making one feel 
uncomfortable for a short time and the fever 
did no material damage. There was no expla- 
nation given for it by the doctors, and as far 
as I know, it was simply one of the many 
strange diseases prevalent at the front. 

Because of the marked increase in enemy 
activity, it was decided to give the Boches 
something to think about. So a projector gas 
attack was staged for the night of Tuesday, 



114 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

June 18. Now to carry out the plans success- 
fully the wind had to be blowing from our lines 
to the Boche. Perhaps my readers will under- 
stand the situation better if they realize that 
gas released from a projector depends upon a 
favorable wind to carry it across to the enemy 
lines, thereby differing from gas fired in shells. 
The greatest care must be exercised so that 
none of our own infantry should be endangered 
by a change of wind. In conjunction with the 
projector attack all the batteries in the sector 
were to fire heavy gas concentrations upon the 
enemy artillery. Now it happened that the 
Boches had planned a "coup de main" (or 
raid) early the following morning. Our gas 
caught them completely by surprise just before 
their attack, and was most effective against 
them. They captured the town of Xivray which 
was a short distance to our left, but were 
driven out in a counter-attack by our infantry. 
Our observers brought us the welcome news 
that during the next forty-eight hours ambu- 
lances were busy behind the German lines 
carrying back the gas casualties. 



BACK TO THE FRONT 115 

Rumors came to us from time to time of a 
move from our present sector. We had an idea 
that we were to go back for a rest, as we had 
been at the front some four months without 
rehef . We pictured to ourselves a pleasant rest 
camp with ample opportunity for bathing 
and sleeping. It was a pleasing vision, which, 
needless to say, was never realized. The time 
had come when something told me it was 
necessary to take a bath. So, one morning. 
Corporal Lindsey and I decided to walk to the 
neighboring town of Ansauville where there 
were hot showers and the possibility of a 
change of clothes. It was a hike of some four 
or five kilometers and we started early, eager 
to be among the first under the showers. The 
day was warm, and we arrived decidedly hot 
and uncomfortable. 

We sought the "Salle de Bain" and found 
it was closed for the day and no persuasion on 
our part could prevail upon those in charge to 
open it for us. If any of my readers have ever 
planned a pleasant evening, a delicious dinner 
followed by the theater, and perhaps a bit of 



116 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

dancing after that; in short, an oasis in the 
desert of a hard month's work, an event which 
has been carefully planned even to the minutest 
detail, and looked forward to for weeks, then, 
when the long-awaited evening has arrived, 
to find, without warning, that all the hotels 
are closed, no theaters in operation, and all 
musicians on strike; if my readers can picture 
to themselves such a catastrophe, then they 
are in a position to appreciate my feelings when 
I found I could not take a bath. Even the clean 
clothes were not forthcoming, and so, tired 
and disgusted, we set out for the town of 
Mandres where we heard there were baths in 
operation. 

It was nearly noon when we arrived there, 
and we at once sought something to eat. 
There it was that we received one of the most 
striking examples of the good work done by 
the Salvation Army. We found their canteen 
located in the cellar of what had formerly been 
a house, but what was now nothing more than 
a pile of debris. Shelled beyond all resemblance 
to a building, it presented the appearance of 



BACK TO THE FRONT 117 

a large pile of stones and rocks. We passed 
through a narrow door, and entered what re- 
mained of the cellar. There a sight, which I 
shall never forget, met my eyes. The room 
was filled with men in khaki, "doughboys" 
who had just been relieved from their "trick" 
in the line, others who were about to go up, 
machine gunners, artillerymen, men from the 
Medical Corps; in short, practically every 
branch of the service was represented there. 
At the other end of the room was a counter, 
made of old packing-boxes, and a field range, 
where the boys were being supplied with food 
and cigarettes. I was interested, and sitting 
down near the stove, listened to the conversa- 
tion of the man who was cooking. He greeted 
each boy as he filed by, cheerful and smiling; 
he gave every one of them something to laugh 
about, and what was better, something to eat. 
Ham and eggs, sausages, bread, and crackers 
with a cup of hot coffee, comprised the menu. 
It was real coffee, not the muddy conglomera- 
tion of water and I don't know what which 
composed the army coffee. One lad inquired 



118 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

the price before giving the order, evidently 
fearing that his suppHes of centimes might not 
prove adequate to the demand. "What, are 
you broke?" was the reply, followed by a re- 
luctant admission that fifty centimes (ten cents 
or thereabouts in U.S.) represented all his 
worldly goods. "It's free to you, then," was 
the response, and the boy passed on. Those 
who could pay, did; and those who could not, 
got what they wanted free of charge. Needless 
to say, there were none of those boys who 
would take advantage of this man's generosity. 
He played the game with them, and they in 
turn with him. Can one fail to understand why 
it is that the Salvation Army has made good 
in France, not alone where the sun shines and 
shells are conspicuous for their absence, but 
rather where the mud is deepest, and the "whiz- 
bangs" and gas are selections rendered hourly 
by the Boches? Every man who has entered 
a Salvation Army hut, and seen the unselfish 
devotion of the men and girls who, regard- 
less of danger and discomfort, minister to the 
needs of the boys, will never forget them or 



BACK TO THE FRONT 119 

cease to hold a warm spot in their hearts for 
an organization which, though comparatively 
poor, is rich in good deeds done. 

I will never forget a "top" sergeant who, 
after we had landed in New York, was taking 
the air on Fifth Avenue one afternoon. This 
particular sergeant was in an unfortunate con- 
dition; he had five cents in his pocket and a 
great appetite, an extremely poor combination. 
As we walked along we descried a Salvation 
Army girl standing on a corner, seeking contri- 
butions. Her luck had evidently been poor, as 
comparatively few coins adorned the small 
dipper. We went by, stopped, and my friend 
slipped his hand in his pocket, and tossing a 
five-cent piece into the box, remarked, "Well, 
boys, there goes my last nickel." It was a great 
tribute rendered to a great organization. 

We had a delicious meal cooked by our Sal- 
vation Army friend, and left with reluctance. 
Our trip back to the battery position proved 
uneventful, and arriving early in the afternoon, 
we went to our dug-out and there found the 
most disgusted set of men in the world. Gloom 



120 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

was in evidence on every face. We inquired 
the cause for this funereal gathering, thinking 
that perhaps these five men had been ordered 
to return to the States and were bemoaning 
their sad fate. Finally they told us, anger and 
indignation taking the place of sorrow and dis- 
gust. It seemed that the major had inspected 
the battery that morning. He went into the 
captain's dug-out and found him very properly 
asleep, as the battery had been up all night 
firing. He found the executive officer asleep in 
his dug-out, and most of the men in the same 
condition. All of which did not tend to make 
the major feel happy, as, no doubt, he himself 
would have preferred to be reposing quietly 
upon his own bunk, rather than inspecting his 
more fortunate subordinates. One of the offi- 
cers, however, was up and about, and upon 
him descended the major's wrath. Our dug- 
out had been inspected and found wanting in 
the matter of "general police." It had not been 
swept out that morning and the captain was 
told of the matter upon awakening. He "passed 
the buck" to the first lieutenant, who, in turn 



BACK TO THE FRONT 121 

passed it to the second lieutenant, who could 
not pass it to a private, but was awaiting my 
return to pass it to me. In the meantime the 
men were ordered out to fill in shell-holes as 
a penalty for their forgetfulness. The morning 
had been spent in this delightful pastime, 
which resembles the old game of building a 
stone wall and tearing it down again, with the 
exception that shell-holes were even more 
plentiful than stones in this particular locality. 
What would be the afternoon's work, that was 
the all-important question? I sought the cap- 
tain, believing it better policy to seek him, 
rather than to have him seek me, and found 
him in a pleasant mood, having just completed 
his lunch. He warned me to be careful in the 
future of the appearance of the dug-out and I 
left, thinking the storm had blown over. But 
not so. The first lieutenant, evidently feeling 
that his dignity had been ruffled by the major, 
ordered us to spend the afternoon in stringing 
barbed wire. A pleasant task it proved. Those 
of us fortunate enough at the time to have 
fairly presentable clothes, found them in rib- 



122 ONE OP THE Y. D. 

bons when evening came. Our hands were 
artistically decorated with scratches and cuts, 
and we were decidedly annoyed at the whole 
proceeding which was not only unpleasant, 
but decidedly unnecessary. 

The next day was Sunday, and we hoped 
that we were to be spared any further disagree- 
able details, but "our friend" the lieutenant 
wanted all the empty shell-cases around the 
position taken to the town of Bernecourt, a 
kilometer distant. It was a delightful after- 
noon's work and the entire firing battery had 
a good laugh at our expense. 

The rumors of a move still continued to 
reach us, and it was not long before we realized 
that we would leave in a short time. Our new 
brigadier-general inspected us, and the cap- 
tain held various "non-com" meetings, out- 
lining the plans for entraining. All the ofiicers 
seemed to feel that we were leaving for a some- 
what busier sector, and "open warfare" (where 
there are no trenches or dug-outs) was preached 
to us daily. On Thursday, June £7, the orders 
came that we had been relieved and that we 



BACK TO THE FRONT 123 

were to "pull out" at 10 p.m. that night. One 
of the park wagons was to take down the men's 
blanket rolls, the telephone and gas equip- 
ment, the field range and the machine gun and 
ammunition. It was necessary to wait until 
after dark before the park wagon could be 
brought into the town of Bernecourt, and nine 
o'clpck had come and gone before we had even 
started loading. It was quite a proposition to 
get everything aboard, but it was finally ac- 
complished and we were ready to leave for the 
horse-line. 



CHAPTER X 
BOUND FOR PARIS? 

The men's rolls had been packed in such a way 
that they covered the top of the load, rising 
to a point resembling a ridge-pole of a house. 
Some ten or fifteen of us straddled the top of 
this load, endeavoring to keep our equilibrium, 
as the rolls had a rather unfortunate habit of 
sliding from side to side, making our resting- 
place anything but secure. We must have been 
at least twelve or fifteen feet above the ground, 
as we rattled through the streets of Berne- 
court, bound for our horse-line at Andilly. 
There is always a bit of good-natured rivalry 
between the drivers and cannoneers, and some 
of the latter had laid great emphasis on the 
fact that the road which we traversed would 
undoubtedly be shelled by the Boches, the 
drivers replying that it made no difference to 
them, as they were "hard." The idea of a 
shelling did not appeal to those of us who were 
riding on the top of the load, as any gait faster 



BOUND FOR PARIS? 125 

than a walk promised ruin. We had barely 
reached the outskirts of the town and headed 
along the road to Ansauville when one "little 
joker" in our midst thought he would call the 
drivers' bluff and see whether or not they were 
so "hard" that they ignored shells altogether. 
He had secreted somewhere upon his person 
two hand grenades. Unfortunately for the rest 
of us who were riding on the load, he had 
failed to take us into his confidence. Conse- 
quently, when one of the hand grenades burst 
some twenty yards away in the field, it 
sounded to us like a Boche "77." The drivers 
let out a yell and the horses were urged into 
a gallop. Down the road we were carried at 
breakneck speed, the wagon lurching from 
side to side, and barely missing several trees 
in its headlong flight. I had visions of what 
would happen if one of the wheels of the park 
wagon should take it into its head to embrace 
some large tree in its wild passage down the 
road. It was with the greatest difficulty that 
we stuck on, grasping whatever presented 
itself as a stable support. The traffic grew more 



im ONE OP THE Y. D. ' 

congested, caissons, ration-carts, and water- 
wagons narrowly missed colliding with us, 
and it was only by the grace of God that we 
escaped a collision. No sooner had the horses 
run themselves into a slower pace than our 
friend behind us, who was enjoying the situa- 
tion thoroughly, let drive with the other hand 
grenade and the performance was repeated, 
with the result that when the horses were fin- 
ally brought to a halt, we were four miles 
nearer our destination, and the time made 
"over our course" would, I felt sure, compare 
favorably with that of some of our leading 
race-track favorites. No damage was done, 
however, and we reached the horse-line with- 
out further incident. The drivers had very 
little to say, and came in for much good- 
natured "ragging" at the hands of the can- 
noneers, who passed around the story among 
those who had not been present at the time. 

That night and the following day were 
spent in preparation for our departure which 
was scheduled for the next evening at nine 
o'clock. The days were hot, and most of the 



BOUND FOR PARIS? 127 

traveling was to be done at night. The entire 
regiment was ready and waiting, upon the fol- 
lowing evening and we moved out of park at 
the designated time. Each battery had another 
machine gun issued to it, and both of our guns 
were mounted upon caissons during the march, 
as we had been warned that it was a common 
occurrence for Boche airmen to fly low and 
sweep a regiment with their machine guns. 
The men were ordered to hike with blouses 
and packs, which made our first night's march 
one of the hardest we went through. We cov- 
ered twenty-four kilometers, arriving in the 
small town of Coussey at about four o'clock 
where we were to billet. Day was breaking be- 
fore we were permitted to turn in, and I eagerly 
sought the hay-loft assigned to us. 

The following morning "reveille" blew at 
nine o'clock and the all-important question 
was, "When do we eat.^^" As usual, I went out 
on a "patrol" to see if we could induce some 
"madame" to cook a breakfast for us. I was 
successful and prevailed upon a very obliging 
woman to provide for four. It was a delicious 



128 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

meal. A large omelette, French fried potatoes, 
bread and butter, cheese, and milk composed 
our menu. It was well cooked and there was 
lots of it. An amusing incident occurred during 
breakfast when our ''skipper," Captain Parker, 
entered the house, and stopped for a moment 
at the sight of four of his non-coms "getting 
away" with all that good food (he having just 
finished a rather uninteresting meal). As he 
turned to leave, we asked him to join us, but 
he declined, evidently believing that "to the 
victors belong the spoils." 

The remainder of the day was spent in clean- 
ing equipment and preparing for a long, hard 
hike. Two o'clock the following morning found 
us hitched in and ready to pull out of park. 
We understood that we were to entrain at a 
small town some fifteen kilometers distant, 
and we were in for a "large" day. The hike 
itseM lived up to all our expectations. The 
drivers set a wicked pace, and the cannoneers 
found themselves walking slowly one minute 
and running the next. 

There is always much competition between 



BOUND FOR PARIS? 129 

the different batteries in the regiment as to 
which one can entrain in the shortest time. We 
had won the first competition some months 
before and were anxious to do the same again. 
From the moment when the "lead" team on 
the first piece put their hoofs on the loading 
ramp to the time when the last men had 
stepped aboard and we were ready to leave, 
forty minutes had elapsed. Again we had the 
quickest time in the regiment and everybody 
was well pleased. 

The trip was a beautiful one, and the coun- 
try, after the first few hours' travel, was un- 
damaged by the hand of war. We passed 
through several large towns and were heartily 
cheered by the inhabitants. "Les soldats amer- 
icains" always received a warm welcome from 
the French. As night drew near we wondered 
where we were going. Some of the boys had 
followed our course on a map, and stated that 
we were bound in the general direction of Paris. 
Oh, what a wonderful thought! We should be 
just in time to parade in Paris on July 4. No 
sooner had the rumor started than it was given 



130 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

full credence. Everybody believed this, and 
the boys were drawing vivid mental pictures 
of the parade up the Champs Elysees lined for 
miles and miles by pretty French girls. As time 
went along, however, it seemed as if this rumor 
was a true one, for the following morning found 
us within ten miles of the city, and we were 
within easy sight of the suburbs before eight 
o'clock. We were all very much excited and 
glad at last that we were to see the historic 
city. We anticipated at least two or three days' 
" leave," and it was not long before every min- 
ute had been carefully planned. Nearer and 
nearer we came, until at last we were actually 
in the suburbs. 

Then it happened. Without any warning 
whatever the train swung off to the right and 
we were no longer headed for Paris. What a 
moment before seemed almost a certainty now 
became one of those all too common rumors, 
and we realized that the 101st Regiment would 
not see Paris then, at any rate. The boys took 
the disappointment philosophically. "C'est la 
guerre," that was all, and they berated them- 



BOUND FOR PARIS? 131 

selves soundly for even imagining such a thing 
as getting to Paris a possibility. We came to 
a sudden halt after two more hours of travel, 
orders were issued to detrain, and we were 
once more on our way, hiking over a dusty 
road in the heat of the day. We covered thirty 
kilometers before nightfall, and found that we 
were to billet in a small town some five miles 
outside of the city of Meaux. It was an exceed- 
ingly dirty place and the inhabitants were very 
poor, indeed. We managed, however, to find 
an old lady who cooked for us while we were 
there, and at least we had good food. July 4 
was celebrated by morning passes to Meaux, 
and I enjoyed a delicious dinner at the hotel 
there. It was a novel sensation to sit down to 
a table and eat from real plates. That same 
evening at nine o'clock we hitched in, and hiked 
until 3.30 A.M. of the following day. We spent 
the day near a large chateau, the horses, guns, 
caissons, and limbers having been carefully 
parked under trees so that they would be in- 
visible to enemy airplanes. We were on the 
way up to the front again, and orders awaited 



132 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

us that the first platoon was to be ready to 
leave at 6.30 p.m. When the time came, these 
orders were countermanded and we were told 
to unhitch and spend the night where we were. 
It was welcome news, and we sought the near- 
est available resting-place. Three other boys 
and myself decided to pitch a "pup" tent. It 
took some time, but when everything was 
ready, we had a very comfortable place to 
sleep. Two of the boys had just fallen asleep 
and I had just slipped in between the blankets, 
looking forward to a good night's rest, when I 
heard a distant shout "C Battery turn out, 
harness and hitch." I prayed that some one 
would shoot me where I lay, so I would not 
have to get up. Confusion reigned supreme; 
men were sleeping anywhere within a radius 
of a half-mile, and it is no easy task to collect 
one hundred and eighty-five of them, in total 
darkness, especially if the majority refuse to 
hear their names called. Lanterns were pro- 
cured and the horses harnessed with difficulty. 
I saw one "wheel driver" attempting to har- 
ness his pair, holding a lantern in one hand 



BOUND FOR PARIS? 133 

and swearing in a most convincing manner. 
It was a fortunate thing that no Boche planes 
were "over" that night, or they would have 
had a field day. Considering the difficulties 
under which the men were working, the bat- 
tery was ready to move in a comparatively 
short time. I found a seat on one of the escort 
wagons of the supply company attached to the 
battery, and fell asleep until the start was 
made. We had four mules who proved them- 
selves anything but pleased at being routed 
out at night, and they promptly made all the 
trouble possible for the "mule skinner" (mule 
driver), who had no control over them what- 
ever. Seats on any vehicle were as scarce as a 
stage box at the Winter Garden in the height 
of the season, and most of the men walked. 
Several wise ones camouflaged themselves un- 
der an old 'paulin in our wagon and spent 
a fairly comfortable night. We had no sooner 
made a start than our mules took the wrong 
road, partly through preference and partly 
through a desire to go in any direction other 
than the right one. It took a haK-hour's hard 



134 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

work to finally catch up with the battery, 
where we brought up the rear of the column. 
We passed several regiments of French troops, 
both infantry and artillery, who were going in 
the opposite direction, back for a well-deserved 
rest. They looked tired and worn, and hardly 
noticed us as they plodded wearily on their 
way. It was apparent that wherever we were 
going was far from a joke, judging from the 
appearance of these poilus. 



CHAPTER XI 
CHATEAU-THIERRY AND THE SECOND MARNE 

There was no stopping for mess, and what 
little we had to eat was composed of canned 
willy and hard-tack. However, we halted at 
midday by the roadside, and the men dropped 
in their tracks to seize a few moments' sleep. 
It was evident that we were hurrying to the 
front, as the horses were not unhitched and 
everything was in readiness to move at a mo- 
ment's notice. It was not xintil nightfall that 
we moved forward, and as all the roads were 
crowded by traffic, it was midnight before we 
succeeded in getting the guns of the first pla- 
toon into our reserve position, where we were 
to remain until the following night. It proved 
a pleasant spot, our only covering being the 
thick foliage of the trees, and our orders were 
not to fire except in an emergency. The follow- 
ing night we rejoined the second platoon, which 
had gone into position a mile or two in our 
rear, and started forward, bound this time for 



136 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

that front of fronts, Chateau-Thierry. The 
night was overcast and not a star was visible 
as we rattled over the shell-torn road. We were 
accompanied for some distance by those brave 
boys in the infantry, marching along in silence 
with their rifles slung over their shoulders, 
bound for the scene of a battle which made the 
name of the 26th Division a watchword among 
the French. We were on the Paris-Chateau- 
Thierry road, and the Boches had been through 
there only a few weeks before. Now and then 
a motor-cycle dispatch rider dashed by us, 
on his way to the lines; occasionally an ambu- 
lance, at top speed, passed us, bearing its load 
of wounded. No guns roared forth as we ad- 
vanced, but we knew that they were there, 
eager to welcome us, and we listened for the 
whine of the shells. Our route took us by a 
large farmhouse, situated near cross-roads, 
and known as the "Paris Farm." It was a 
dangerous place, as hardly an hour passed that 
the Boches did not shell it. As we drew near, 
all the men were ordered to mount, and we 
galloped along, turned off the main road, and 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 137 

drew up in a field — lost. We were to relieve 
a battery of the 12tli Field Artillery, and our 
guide, confused at the sameness of the terrain, 
had lost his way. There we stood, ignorant of 
our surroundings and wondering how much 
longer the German artillery would remain 
silent. After much riding about on the part of 
the caisson corporals, in an attempt to solve 
the problem, we started forward once more, 
retraced our path, and passed, for the second 
time that night, the ill-fated cross-roads. 
Again we halted in another field, and again 
we were lost. After a wait which, to us, seemed 
hours, a rider galloped up, having found our 
battery position. Once more we passed the 
cross-roads at a gallop, and found our position, 
some two hundred meters in front of the Paris 
Farm and to the left of the Paris-Chateau 
Thierry road. No sooner had we passed the 
place for the third time than the Boches 
started in their nocturnal serenade and scat- 
tered much of the road we had just traversed 
over the landscape. It was a lucky escape for 
us and we set to work getting the guns into 



138 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

position, anxious for a chance to reply in kind. 
Our position was located in a wood. There 
were no gun-pits and only a few small dug- 
outs, useless as far as protection was con- 
cerned, which the boys called "graves," and 
very aptly named. It was absolutely necessary 
to keep our location hidden from the enemy, 
as, once discovered, there was little chance of 
escaping a concentration of fire which would 
prove anything but pleasant, situated as we 
were in the open. 

We spent the following day in making what 
improvements we could around the position 
and carrying ammunition to the guns. The 
weather was pleasant, and for the first three 
days there was little firing save at night, when 
we were always busy "strafing" the roads 
and throwing over gas. The Boches were by 
no means idle, and our ration-cart and water- 
wagon were always late, often never arriving. 
The men lived in the open. We pitched "pup" 
tents under the trees and rested during the 
day, but at night hell broke loose along the 
entire front and we were always busy. An amus- 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 139 

ing incident occurred, one day, when two mem- 
bers of our instrument detail were walking 
down the road near the Paris Farm. They had 
just reached the cross-roads when a shell burst 
behind them, throwing them flat by the force 
of its impact. They had not heard it coming 
and the first thing they really knew was that 
they were lying on the ground. They picked 
themselves up and took an inventory. One of 
them had three holes in his right trousers leg 
and the other had two in his left. They were 
made by shell fragments which evidently 
passed between them without so much as 
scratching either. They were lucky, that's all, 
and they gave those cross-roads a wide berth 
after that. 

One afternoon I got permission from the 
captain to take one man with me and enter 
the town of Lucy le Bocage, which was some 
three or four kilometers in front of our posi- 
tion. Our object was to salvage machine guns 
and to look over the town. When we arrived 
at the outskirts, we saw no signs of life what- 
ever. All was quiet, — a deadly sort of quiet. 



140 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

— and we slipped into the nearest building, 
keeping out of sight of any observers. We went 
from building to building, impressed by the 
wanton destruction we saw on all sides. The 
Boehes had been through there, and hand-to- 
hand fighting had taken place in the streets. 
Not a building was undamaged, and those 
that had escaped in part the shell-fire had been 
ransacked by the Boche infantry. Things which 
were obviously of no military value had been de- 
stroyed simply for the sake of breaking some- 
thing. We entered what had been the school- 
house and saw a lesson in pronunciation on 
the board, for the small French children, and 
the date April, 1918, still remained. It took 
me back to that fatal day when the news of 
the enemy advance came to the inhabitants 
of this picturesque little town. I could easily 
imagine the consternation, the hurried gather- 
ing together of household necessities, and the 
hasty retreat; the old people who had lived 
there for years leaving all that was dear to 
them behind; and then I pictured their return, 
at some later date, to find their humble dwell- 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 141 

ings but a mass of dirt and stones, and their 
once picturesque little town unrecognizable 
save for its location on a map. We spent nearly 
two hours there. Equipment was scattered 
everywhere in the streets. Rifles and German 
machine guns lay in the gutters, all partially 
destroyed. We made our way back through 
the public square and entered the little church. 
That, too, we found in ruins, windows broken, 
statues lay shattered upon the floor, and the 
altar had been struck by a shell. To me it was 
the most pitiful sight of all. This spot which 
for years, perhaps centuries, had been a thing 
of beauty to the inhabitants had been ruined 
beyond repair. Houses could be rebuilt, and 
streets remade, but this little church would 
never be the same. Walls may be rebuilt, but 
traditions and sentiments — never. We passed 
outside, and gazed upon the small cemetery 
which lay quiet and peaceful, a picturesque 
sight in the light of the setting sun. No sound 
broke the stiUness of the place, and here and 
there a wooden cross, distinguishable with its 
tri-color, bore witness to the fact that brave 



142 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

Frenchmen had given their lives in the defense 
of their very homes. It was a touching sight, 
and we hurried away with a very real concep- 
tion of what this war has meant to the French, 
the sacrifice of the houses, their towns, and 
their men — young and old. 

As we turned to leave, we met three "dough- 
boys" filling canteens at a well. They seemed 
startled to see us, and were evidently in a 
hurry, as they wasted little time in conversa- 
tion. We wondered at this seemingly uncalled- 
for haste, and learned, much to our surprise, 
that the Boche had 37 mm. guns trained on 
the town, and whenever they saw any sign of 
life in the streets, they opened up. Further- 
more, they added that it was the usual custom 
to shell the place at least every half -hour and 
that we had better "slide along." We did it, 
because when a "doughboy" says leave, you 
can be sure that there is the best reason in the 
world for so doing. We had barely made the 
turn in the road when we heard the first "whiz- 
bang" land in the town and saw the smoke 
rise slowly over the street. We called the meet- 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 143 

ing to order, and passed a unanimous vote of 
thanks to our friends who had warned us. 
Hastening back to the battery, we arrived 
there just in time for mess. 

That night we turned in hoping for an un- 
broken sleep and we got it — until two in the 
morning. I was rudely awakened by some one 
who told me that the captain wished to see me. 
I dressed — that is, put on my shoes and hel- 
met — and reported. He told me that the in- 
telligence officer expected an enemy attack at 
dawn and to get my machine gunners out and 
"stand to" till morning, in case the Boches 
broke through. I got the men up and told them 
the news which one of them greeted with the 
philosophical expression, "Same old bull. I 
wish they would come through for a change." 
We had heard the same thing so many times 
before, that it had lost its novelty, but the 
prospect of a little excitement stimulated 
them, and the men took their posts. 

I seated myseK at the telephone switch- 
board in order to hear if any new orders came 
through, and was engaged in conversation with 



144 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

the operator when I heard a man running up 
from the guns, crashing through the trees, 
evidently in a great hurry. He came near and 
I heard him shout into the medical man's dug- 
out, "The first piece has blown up." My heart 
stopped for a moment. Every artilleryman 
knows what to expect when one of his own 
guns blows up. I seized a flashlight and hurried 
out into the darkness. It was impossible to 
distinguish a thing. I rushed down toward the 
first piece, slipping and stumbling along the 
path. I met the captain hurrying in the oppo- 
site direction, followed by two men carrying a 
stretcher, and my worse fears were realized. 
I hastened on, arriving at the gun-pit just as a 
limp form was being placed upon a second 
stretcher. Lighting the way for the bearers, 
we made our way back through the woods to 
the dug-outs. There we found the man assigned 
to our battery from the Medical Corps, Ed 
Lange, busily at work doing all in his power 
for Corporal Spallas, the gunner of the first 
piece, who had been dangerously woimded in 
the leg. 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 145 

The first piece had just begun firing when 
the accident occurred. On the second or third 
shot the gun blew up, injuring the three men 
who were serving the piece at the time. The 
chief of section, Corporal Ted Fowler, of Ros- 
lindale, had just turned, after loading the gun, 
when the breech-block was blown some twenty 
feet to the rear, slightly grazing his shoulder. 
It was a lucky escape from a serious injury. 
I will never forget the remark he made to one 
of the boys who endeavored to assist him; his 
wound was causing him intense pain at the 
time, but he waved him away, saying, *' Leave 
me till the last; look out for the others." He 
was game to the core. Private Ralph Corey, 
of Boston, who was playing number one on 
the gun, never recovered consciousness, but 
died twenty minutes after he reached the hos- 
pital. I had slept with him in the same dug-out 
for weeks and knew him well. I never met a 
better soldier. Always cheerful, he was contin- 
ually thinking of others first, and eager to do 
more than his share of the work. He was an 
inspiration to those who served with him and 



146 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

was without a doubt one of the most popular 
men in the battery. His death threw a shadow 
over us for days, and nobody who served in 
C Battery will ever forget Ralph Corey, and 
we will all of us be better men for having 
known him. 

The men's wounds were dressed as well as 
possible, and they were evacuated to the hos- 
pital within twenty minutes. We hoped that 
they would save Corporal Spallas, but we 
learned that his wounds, too, proved fatal, and 
he also made the supreme sacrifice. In civil life 
Nicholas Spallas kept a little fruit-stand in 
Boston. He was one of the most eflicient gun- 
ner corporals in the battery. His gun was al- 
ways spotless, and I remember once surprising 
him while sitting on the gunner's seat and 
stroking the breech, as a man would pet a 
favorite dog. He lived for his gun and it seemed 
the irony of fate that it should be his own gun 
which caused his death. Often at night while 
on guard, I would talk with him, and I learned 
that he had no family, no relations in the world 
but a girl was waiting at home for him when 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 147 

he should come back. He never complained 
after he was hit, never uttered a word, just lay- 
there in silence, and Captain Parker's last 
words to him were, as they lifted him into 
the ambulance, "Well played. Corporal, well 
played." He had lived like a soldier, fought 
like a soldier, and he died like a soldier. 

These were the first casualties in the bat- 
tery. For over five months at the front we had 
been "lucky," and as dawn broke and the sun 
rose out of the east, what had been, the night 
before, a battery of boys, became that morning 
a battery of men, all fighting mad and eager for 
revenge, and every number one man, as he 
pulled the lanyard sending a shell on its way, 
murmured a silent prayer that it would find 
its target. 

Troubles never come singly in the army, and 
so we found it. All day long the Boches re- 
mained quiet; hardly a shot was fired along 
the entire front, but it was only the calm 
which precedes the storm. That night we made 
our first acquaintance with mustard gas, and 
we found through experience that the Boches 



148 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

had a goodly supply of it. We had a firing 
schedule which had been planned for most of 
the night, and the gun crew of the second sec- 
tion was busy doing two guns' work, as our 
first piece had not, as yet, been replaced. The 
Boches had evidently spotted our position, and 
they opened up on us with a concentration of 
mustard gas. As a result Lieutenant Lover- 
ing Hill, our executive oflScer, and Sergeant 
Edmund O'Callaghan, chief of the second sec- 
tion, were both evacuated before morning, and 
the following day some fifteen or sixteen men 
were also sent to the hospital as a result of the 
gas. It was necessary to move the second piece 
because the fumes were still very noticeable 
near the gun-pit, and after considerable diflS- 
culty we succeeded in establishing the gun in 
another emplacement nearer our so-called 
dug-outs. 

That afternoon we did considerable firing, 
and a disastrous afternoon it proved, for there 
were at least five Boche observation balloons 
up and two airplanes; but our orders were to 
fire and we did so, with the result that our 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 149 

new location was "spotted." That evening, 
about mess-time, the Boches started "throw- 
ing them over." They were landing about a 
hundred yards in our rear and we paid no par- 
ticular attention to them, although we could 
hear the shell fragments whistle over our heads 
from time to time and we gave little attention 
to anything else, until, after one report, louder 
than the rest, we heard the well-known whirr, 
and looking up saw a shelter half which had 
been stretched between two or three trees sud- 
denly give a twitch, and a hole about the size 
of a silver dollar appeared in it. Now it hap- 
pened that "Ollie" Parsons, one of the clever- 
est number one men that ever rode a gun, was 
sitting below this shelter half, and the hole 
had been made directly above his head. He 
never stopped eating, glanced up, and on the 
strength of his narrow escape asked the cooks 
for some more potatoes. A telephone message 
from the captain warned us that the shells 
were dropping nearer and to keep our "heads 
up" when we returned to the guns. Then the 
shelling ceased, as abruptly as it had begun. 



150 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

and once more the woods were quiet. The 
birds resumed their twittering in the trees, 
and we fully believed that we should not be 
troubled again that night. 

At about eight o'clock I happened to be 
standing outside of the hole which, by courtesy, 
we called a dug-out, talking to one of the boys 
who was sitting outside, when, without any 
warning whatever, a shell landed so close that 
I was reduced to a sitting posture and thrown 
bodily into the dug-out to the intense discom- 
fort of my friend who came into close contact 
with my hob-nailed boots. He expostulated in 
no mild terms and I apologized profusely, 
urging him not to hold me responsible, but 
rather the man who had fired the shell. I had 
barely made my exit from the dug-out, when 
another shell landed closer, if anything, than 
the first, and again I slid gracefully through 
the door. 

Then they came, one after another, with 
little or no interval between, and getting closer 
all the time. There were six of us sitting on the 
only spot we could sit — the floor — with our 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 151 

heads just clearing the logs above us. We sat 
there and waited for the "party" to stop, but 
it did not, it grew more violent, and we real- 
ized that we were in for it. It was impossible 
to count the shells, for no man living could 
add fast enough to give an accurate tally. We 
could hear the report of the guns in the dis- 
tance, the whine of the shells, and the explo- 
sion right outside. The ground shook with the 
series of concussions, and taking it all in all, 
we had an excellent imitation of the San 
Francisco earthquake. The dug-outs, as I have 
mentioned before, were anything but shell- 
proof; in fact, as one man remarked, "I doubt 
like hell if they'd stop a machine-gun bullet." 
They consisted of a hole dug in the ground, 
over which some small-sized logs were thrown. 
The only advantage derived from these cover- 
ings was a decided desire on the part of those 
seeking shelter within to become Christian 
Scientists, at least for the time being. 

We noticed a peculiar odor, different from 
the usual smell of burnt powder and we knew 
it was gas. We pulled on our masks, and sat 



152 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

there in silence waiting. I heard Captain 
Parker's voice outside, inquiring whether all 
the men had their masks on and if everything 
was all right. He continued to walk up and 
down, ignoring the shells and gas, thinking of 
but one thing, the safety of his men. Ever since 
our first day at the front our captain had 
watched over the battery as a father, and no 
man who saw the "skipper" that night, as 
he paced up and down in the open regardless 
of the danger to himself, will ever forget his 
cool exhibition of nerve. He was badly gassed 
as a result, but even then refused to be evacu- 
ated, and had to be carried away bodily before 
he would leave the boys. He was a splendid 
soldier, a great leader, and "all-man." 

One enemy shell, more accurate than the 
others, hit a pile of ammunition, and two hun- 
dred and fifty rounds of H.E. went up in one 
huge sheet of flame. The Boches saw it and 
dropped five shells in practically the same 
place, and then Sergeant Ernest O'Callaghan, 
the "top" of the firing battery, did one of the 
"gamest" things I ever saw. He pulled off his 




SERGEANT ERNEST O CALLAGHAN 

Chief of Fourth Section 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 153 

gas-mask, for it is next to impossible to speak 
clearly with the miask on, and rushed from 
dug-out to dug-out telling the men to stay 
where they were and quieting them generally. 
Not content with this, he dashed over to the 
burning ammunition and did what he could to 
extinguish the fire. As a result of the exposure 
the gas so affected his eyes that he was tem- 
porarily blinded, but after a month in the 
hospital recovered sufficiently to rejoin the 
battery in the closing days of the war. 

It was apparent that to stay in this place 
much longer would have been fatal, as the gas 
was so thick you could almost "lean against 
it." The captain gave orders to withdraw to 
our second platoon which was in a position 
some two or three hundred meters distant. It 
was a case of each man for himself, and we all 
arrived at our meeting-point in the course of 
fifteen or twenty minutes. None of us realized 
at the time that we had been gassed, and we 
eagerly sought a spot where we could stretch 
out and sleep. The shelling had lasted from 
eight o'clock until after midnight and I sank 



154 ONE OP THE Y. D. 

upon the ground some twenty feet from a "75 " 
which was firing, and dropped asleep. The re- 
ports of the gun, under normal conditions, so 
close, sounded to me like a pleasant lullaby. 
It made little difference to us just then how 
much noise we heard, as long as the noise was 
made by outgoing shells, and noise at the front 
never did interfere with our sleep. Three of us 
had rolled up together in our blankets, side by 
side. Sergeant O'Callaghan, Corporal Sweeney, 
and myself. For nearly five months we had 
slept together at the front. The next morning 
I was awakened by Sergeant O'Callaghan who 
complained of trouble with his eyes. He was 
unable to open them, and I knew that it was 
the delayed effects of the mustard gas. He was 
evacuated at once, and before noon there were 
thirty-two casualties in the battery, including 
the captain. The worst cases were sent at once 
to the hospital, and those of us who were not 
so severely burned received treatment at the 
aid station. My two "bunkies" left me for the 
hospital, and it was almost the first time we 
had been separated since our arrival in France. 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 155 

The battery was very short-handed, and 
even with some replacements from the drivers 
who were sent up from the horse-hne, every 
man in the firing battery was doing four men's 
work. That day we spent in rest, and we made 
the most of it. Men who had never been in a 
gun squad before had to be instructed in their 
duties. From being the luckiest battery in the 
regiment we had become the "hoodoo," all 
in three days. 

We spent the night of July 16 in "pup" 
tents, little thinking that the following morn- 
ing at 5 A.M. would go down into history as 
one of the famous days. It must have been 
nearly midnight when our battery commander, 
Lieutenant Knauth (who was in charge of the 
battery in Captain Parker's absence), received 
orders to be prepared to fire an offensive bar- 
rage at 5 A.M. It was the beginning of the 
advance which never stopped until Novem- 
ber 11, and it was a glorious beginning. I was 
told that the only difficulty was in keeping 
our infantry from going ahead too fast, and 
so, indeed, it seemed, for that raorning we re- 



156 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

ceived orders to advance some four or five 
kilometers to the town of Lucy. All day long 
there was intensive aerial activity, planes, both 
ours and the Boche, were up long before dawn, 
and many an interesting air fight we saw; but 
the boys were much too busy preparing for our 
move to watch many of these engagements. 

One thing, however, we did watch, and that 
with great pleasure. Hundreds of German 
prisoners were brought in during the day. Huge 
truck-loads of them, all congratulating them- 
selves that they had escaped so easily. I re- 
member two who passed our position, one a 
man of at least forty-five, and the other a boy 
who could not have been a day over fifteen. 
Their appearance told us that they had enough 
of it, and were glad to be taken away, even as 
prisoners. 

Our limbers came up at seven o'clock, and 
we limbered up, packed all equipment, and 
started forward. 

We found our new battery position anything 
but a good one; in an open field with but a 
narrow line of trees for cover, it aflforded abso- 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 157 

lutely no protection from shell-fire, or enemy 
observers. We were to be ready to fire at 8.15 
P.M. which meant quick work in getting the 
guns into position. I was sent over to battalion 
headquarters to report the battery "ready" 
to the major, and for the second time entered 
the town of Lucy. On the way I met Corporal 
Dan O'Leary, of our battery, who was a ''run- 
ner" and bound for our position with a mes- 
sage from the major. He pointed out my route 
to me, and we separated. I found the major 
ensconced in the cellar of an old shell-torn 
house, delivered my message, and started back. 
Again I met Corporal O'Leary, and he greeted 
me with the news that they had "got him," 
and I saw his arm covered with bandages. A 
shell fragment hit him just before he reached 
the battery. It did n't seem to worry him much 
and he walked along as if nothing had hap- 
pened. He was evacuated that same night, 
and, so far as I know, came out of it in good 
shape. 

We spent that night in spasmodic firing, and 
the Boches showed us early in the morning 



158 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

that they had a very good idea where we were. 
Corporal Bright, our acting instrument ser- 
geant, and I rolled up together about 2 a.m. 
and were sleeping peacefully in an open field 
when we were rudely awakened by shells 
landing some fifty yards away. It was too early 
to get up, and we did not enjoy lying awake 
and wasting time which might be spent in 
sleep. Corporal Bright then made a wise sug- 
gestion, which was to pull the blankets over 
our heads and thus protected we could sleep 
in peace. We did it, and ostrich-like we en- 
joyed another hour of rest. 

That morning, save for enemy planes, we 
were undisturbed, and the gun crews made up 
for some much-needed sleep. We had three 
men on a gun, and under normal conditions 
we should have had at least six. Privates were 
acting as sergeants, and men were filling in 
wherever they were needed. 

Our field range was placed under two large 
trees and mess was cooked in the open. Some 
of the men were sitting around the fire, eating, 
when an enemy observation balloon suddenly 




W. E. BRIGHT, JR. 

Instrument Sergeant 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 159 

shot up, spotted our kitchen, and in less time 
than it takes to write it two shells dropped 
right in the midst of the men sitting around 
the fire. Ten of the boys were wounded, four 
of them severely, and the medical man at- 
tached to the battery. Private Primrose, gave 
a wonderful exhibition of courage as he gave 
these men first-aid treatment under continu- 
ous shell-fire. One lad, "Red" Gould by name, 
of East Boston, had a shell fragment pass com- 
pletely through his ankle. He looked around, 
saw that some of the others were harder hit 
than he was, got up and walked across the 
field, borrowed a cigarette from another boy, 
remarking as he lighted it, " Well, they touched 
me up a bit," and sat down by the road to 
await the ambulance. When it arrived, he got 
in and that was the first intimation he gave 
that he had been wounded. He had lots of 
nerve, and was always cheerful, one of the most 
popular boys in the battery. Four of the boys 
who were the most seriously wounded, Privates 
Chilcott, Gould, Smelledge, and Fine, were 
placed in the ambulance and evacuated. One 



160 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

of them, Charlie Smelledge, of Dorchester, 
never recovered. He was a very conscientious 
boy, a splendid man on the guns, thorough in 
his work, and loved by all. I served in the same 
section with him for six months and no finer 
boy ever lived. 

The rest of the day was spent in digging 
shelters for the men, and everybody worked 
hard to get them completed, as it was impos- 
sible to tell how soon we might need them. 

That night, shortly after dark two large 
truck-loads of ammunition arrived at the posi- 
tion, and each shell had to be carried by hand, 
from the road where the trucks were unloaded, 
to the guns, a distance of some seventy-five 
meters. Our executive officer, Lieutenant Paul 
Smart, the old Harvard hockey player, spent 
the entire night carrying ammunition with the 
men, so that members of the gun crews could 
make up some of their much-needed sleep. 
With a shell over each shoulder he tramped 
back and forth, working himself, so that the 
men might rest. 

At about 2 A.M. I asked the battery com- 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 161 

mander if there was anything more to be done, 
and he repUed, "No, you'd better turn in. I 
suppose you know you're going back to the 
States as an instructor." It seemed to me a 
particularly inopportune moment for joking, 
and I told him so. Especially as two Austrian 
"88's" landed some twenty yards away, just 
after he made this statement. We carried on 
the remainder of the conversation from a prone 
position, and he told me that I was to leave 
the following day. I turned in, just as a Boche 
plane flew over us, dropping bombs on a small 
town to our rear, and enjoyed a good night's 
sleep in a narrow ditch. 

The next day at noon I said good-bye to 
the boys; I shook hands with every boy in the 
battery and got the addresses of their different 
families. The last message they gave me was 
characteristic of the battery and of the divi- 
sion, "Tell them at home that when you last 
saw us we were going forward like hell." That 
night the six "non-coms" from the regiment 
who were going back to the States as instruc- 
tors spent the night at the horse-line. We 



162 ONE OF THE Y. D. 

slept soundly, and they told me the next day 
that we had missed an air raid which was a 
"corker." We were loaded in trucks, hustled 
down to La Ferte, where we took the train for 
Paris, spending one day there. The last word 
we heard from the boys at the front was that 
the Boches were retreating so fast that even 
our motorized machine-gun battalions could 
not keep up with them. From Paris we went 
to Brest, and there boarded the America, 
which sailed the following day. Most of the 
boys — there were some two hundred of us — • 
spent the greater part of the voyage in their 
bunks, and I slept for almost eight days con- 
tinuously. 

Our voyage was without incident, and as 
we slowly made our way up the harbor, and I 
saw the Statue of Liberty in the distance, and 
the shore of God's Country, I felt that the 
real, lasting, and undying credit for final vic- 
tory belonged, and would belong through the 
ages, not to those who went over and came 
back, but to those brave boys, heroes every 
one of them, who sailed for France and now 



CHATEAU-THIERRY 163 

lie buried as they fell, with their faces to the 
enemy, each final resting-place marked, not 
by monument of marble or headstone of gran- 
ite, but by a simple wooden cross, the emblem 
of their supreme sacrifice.^ 



THE END 



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